


Pups of the First Order

by NebulousMistress



Series: Let Slip the Hounds of the First Order [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Assault, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Cannibalism, Crash Landing, Elements of an Eldritch Force, Fantastic Racism, Field Surgery, Force Hallucinations, Gen, Giant Spiders, Mention of Cannibalism, Monster Armitage Hux, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Sith Temple, The Dark Side of the Force, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23671159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousMistress/pseuds/NebulousMistress
Summary: Hunting dogs roam in packs. A single hound won't be successful. But Stormtroopers can be taught.
Series: Let Slip the Hounds of the First Order [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698706
Comments: 49
Kudos: 52





	1. Cadets in the Cadre

Cadet

Congratulations. You have been chosen for a special project under the command of Captain Armitage Hux.

Report to Simulation Room 23 at 0600 tomorrow morning. You will receive further orders upon your arrival.

Commandant Stiles

* * *

TK-1959 stood outside Simulation Room 23 bright and early. The comm on his datapad hadn’t mentioned whether he should come in full armor so he had, helmet held under one arm and his officially assigned datapad in his other hand. This was all so mysterious! No one else in his cadre had received a message like this and Sergeant had been reluctant to let him leave for this meeting. But the message was genuine. TK-1959 hoped the meeting would be over early, today was small arms target practice. While he’d already qualified he particularly liked the small arms, he had a talent for what Sergeant called ‘pistol sniping’.

Maybe he shouldn’t have had that extra cup of caf this morning. Or maybe the idea of a special project just had him feeling that excited.

Soon more stormtroopers showed up. Two from the SK squad, one FN, one RX, and three from the JN squad. They all exchanged serial numbers and got to talking. Everyone had the same mysterious note from Commandant Stiles.

“The name ‘Armitage Hux’ is familiar,” RX-3081 said. He took off his own helmet and stroked a barely-regulation mustache.

“I heard something happened between him and SK-1042,” SK-0331 said. “Some of the officers were talking about it.”

“How would you hear what officers say about things?” FN-2304 asked.

“I did a rotation in the officer’s mess on the _Kraken_ last week,” SK-0331 said conspiratorially. “Commandant Brendol Hux got promoted to General as an apology for what happened between SK-1042 and his son Armitage. From what I heard it was pretty gruesome. Might have been a mission gone wrong.”

“If a mission went wrong why would Captain Hux be running a special project?” TK-1959 asked.

“Sounds like someone’s been listening where they shouldn’t,” FN-2304 warned.

“We’re not droids,” SK-0331 defended. “Besides, you learn things that way.”

“You also learn a lot of stupid that way too,” TK-1959 warned. A soft noise interrupted him, the sound of the simulation room’s door opening.

“Is it 0600 already?” FN-2304 asked.

“Not sure,” TK-1959 said. “I’m going in.”

“Let me know how it goes,” RX-3081 called. “I’ll wait out here until 0600.”

“Afraid of what you’ll find inside?” TK-1959 asked.

“Strategically holding back assets,” RX-3081 said defensively. He pulled his helmet on and stood to look like he was on a simple guard duty. “I’ll be able to observe anyone and everyone going in. Make sure you’re not all ambushed. Besides, I know what hides in dark rooms.”

“Monsters aren’t real,” TK-1959 said dismissively.

“Says you.”

TK-1959 rolled his eyes and stepped into the dark simulation chamber. The technician bay stood empty, nobody present to run any sort of simulation. The screens were dark save for a single bright screen with a note declaring this sim room under renovation for a special project.

Beyond the technician bay the sim room itself was dark, very dark. TK-1959 squinted into the darkness but he couldn’t see much more than shadows. He pulled on his helmet and activated the internal HUD for more information.

The HUD showed a figure in the darkness. “Hello?” TK-1959 called.

No answer.

He pulled off his helm. The darkness seemed clearer as his eyes adapted to the gloom. He pointed his datapad at the floor and slid a gloved finger along a control bar, turning the brightness on the device up to maximum. He then turned the datapad toward the darkness, hoping to illuminate it.

Something moved.

TK-1959 tracked the movement with his eyes, watching it. He could almost feel it watching him back. Weird.

Then he lost sight of it. He pulled on his helm but the HUD showed nothing in the darkness, nothing at all.

Voices entering the room drew TK-1959’s attention and he felt foolish. There was nothing truly dangerous on these ships. At least, nothing that would hide in a dark room. There was plenty of danger but that danger was front and center and easily visible as officers vied for power and stormtroopers fought for promotion.

TK-1959 scrolled the brightness on his datapad back to normal and took his helmet back off. “Hey,” he greeted. There were more troopers now, serial numbers he didn’t know. Most wore their armor but many didn’t, instead wearing technician uniforms or pilot’s fatigues. The idea intrigued TK-1959. Maybe the project would involve more than just Stormtroopers. But such an idea seemed foreign to him, he hadn’t even worked outside of his own cadre yet.

Someone lit a few screens in the technician’s booth and Simulation Room 23 came to life. Lights switched on, illuminating the entire empty chamber. An entire squad of Stormtroopers stood in and out of armor plus all the technicians and pilots needed to support any sort of mission that squad would undertake.

A door opened onto the floor of the simulation chamber and the figure in the technician’s booth stepped out into full light.

Captain Armitage Hux was not a large man. He was tall but then most people were taller than TK-1959. He was pale, a strange ethereal pale. The shockingly red hair did not help matters, making this man look almost non-human. His features were human enough though thin as though he’d spent much of his time hungry. TK-1959 could relate, he sometimes had nightmares of those hungry days before the First Order saved him and gave him a purpose.

Captain Hux stood before the amassed squad and support, hands behind his back as he observed. TK-1959 observed right back; he noticed the solid colored eyes and dark spots on his cheeks and the back of his neck. But those were small details. Without solid observation such details might easily be dismissed and this Captain Hux would be mistaken for human. As human as any other human in the First Order.

And then the Captain opened his mouth to speak and the illusion fell. There was no hiding those distinct metallic fangs.

“You’re wondering why you’re all here,” Captain Hux said. “You’ve all been chosen for an experimental program and have been placed under my command. You were all chosen for your exemplary skills and talents both on and off the battlefield.”

Stormtroopers stood at a confused attention. TK-1959 understood their confusion, he hadn’t graduated from his cadre yet. He’d never been on a single field mission, he hadn’t even had the chance to pass all his quals yet. From the shifting around him he wondered if most of the troopers were in similar stages of their training.

“I understand many of you are confused,” Hux continued. “Half of you haven’t graduated your cadres yet. As of right now you are graduated and you are mine. Your training changes today. But first, each of you will give me your serial numbers.”

It was a roll call. Captain Hux pointed to each trooper in line and received their numbers. Most of them received a nod of acknowledgement and then he moved onto the next trooper. Until he came to RX-3081. Captain Hux paused before asking.

RX-3081 also paused before giving his answer. “HX-7800?” he asked.

Captain Hux smiled and TK-1959 saw the Captain had a mouth full of sharp metal and bone teeth. “3081?” he asked as though he knew the answer.

RX-3081 pulled his helmet off and he and the Captain embraced like old friends. A strange rumble issued from the Captain and they pulled apart.

“I see you got your name back,” RX-3081 said.

“I wasn’t supposed to lose it,” Hux said, sounding almost bitter. “Glad I did though.”

“You were cadre?” SK-0331 asked. 

“I was,” Hux declared. “Full quals, despite efforts to the contrary.”

This statement seemed to put most of the squad at ease. It put TK-1959 at ease as well to know that he was now assigned to a Captain who’d been trained as a Stormtrooper. It meant he knew what to expect from his men.

Captain Hux took advantage of that ease to finish roll call for the last few Stormtroopers. TK-1959 took notes of the rest of the speech so he would be able to review it all later.

They were all keeping their old serial numbers. Those of them still missing certain quals would be trained and tested quickly, which was good because TK-1959 still hadn’t learned light artillery and his AR control was abysmal. After that training would begin. Simulator training of course. But then Captain Hux said something about planet-side training and TK-1959 found himself confused. Did the Captain mean missions already? What other sort of planet-side training could there be?

Whatever it was, TK-1959 was excited. He couldn’t wait to tell the rest of his cadre he’d graduated early and was already assigned to a special project!

And what kind of unit was a ‘Hunter-Killer Squad’? It sounded extra special.

*****

TK-1959 stood in front of his open locker. He felt excitement, elation, the allure of a bright future as he readied himself to leave his cadre for good. He also felt nervous, melancholy. He pulled his weapons from the locker, he needed to return them to the cadre’s armory to be cataloged. His spare datapad, the one he’d unlocked to run technical simulations and logistical exercises that he could play around with during downtime. An empty plasma cartridge from the very first weapon he’d ever fired. 

A tattered stuffed bantha named TK-01.

TK-1959 held the stuffed animal in his hand and it finally hit him. He was leaving his cadre.

He sat on the locker room bench, his fitted armor curling around him like a hug. He set his datapads on the bench and pulled his helmet off.

The stuffed bantha was threadbare from an entire cadre’s worth of hugs before bed, bare fabric with the fur long since loved off. It was missing one droid eye, the other blank and lifeless. Wires curled from the empty eye, wires that led to the inner mechanism that listened. Every child in his cadre talked to the bantha and it always listened, taking in every hope and fear and concern and sleepless night when the darkness pressed in and imaginary monsters stole their sleep. It was a good listener.

TK-1959 hugged it close to his chest and his breath shuddered. He wouldn’t cry, not at all. It was just…

The cadre was his family. He’d never had any other, not on the planet before. Not that he could remember.

This was the first goodbye he’d ever felt. He didn’t like it. But he had to grow up sometime. Sergeant always said that. They all had to grow up sometime. Sergeant always said she was proud of them all and they’d all have no problem getting into excellent squads led by the best captains and lieutenants in the First Order.

TK-1959 took a deep breath and stuck his face into TK-01’s lumpy stuffed head and sighed. It smelled like dust and the forgotten back of a stormtrooper’s locker. He felt guilty hiding it there but he was the youngest in his cadre, he’d needed it the longest and by the time he didn’t the others had all forgotten little TK-01.

TK-1959 put the stuffed bantha on the top of his locker and checked for anything else. He stuffed the empty plasma cartridge into an ammo pocket on his belt, gathered his two datapads, picked up his helmet and his weapons, and left the locker room behind.

He’d always love his cadre, they were his family. But he wouldn’t stay a child forever, a cadet in the cadre. He’d been chosen for a squad and he would make his new captain proud.

*****

TK-1959 handed his weapons over to the armory and that was that. He was no longer officially a member of his cadre. He carried everything he owned with him: his custom-fitted armor, two datapads, a single memento, and his identification tags. The feeling was kind of overwhelming.

He heard familiar voices spilling into the barracks. His cadre, no, his **former** cadre was back from the morning’s small arms training. He knew later today would be AR fundamentals and then free time for an hour before evening rations but he wouldn’t be a part of it anymore. Instead later today he would be assigned a new locker in new barracks and then a series of aptitude tests to determine what training he needed.

“Hey, ‘59.”

TK-1959 waved at the trooper calling to him, TK-1927. As expected, TK-1984 and TK-1936 flanked their friend. TK-1959 got along well enough with them, or at least no one had ever caused trouble for the other.

“Missed you at practice,” TK-1984 said.

“I, um…” TK-1959 blushed and grinned. The others knew about the message but not what it meant. “I made a squad!”

TK-1927 scoffed. “No offense, ‘59, but while you’re a surgical droid with the pistol you can’t handle a single weapon longer than your arm.”

TK-1936 snickered. “Told you he was a dog.”

“A what?” TK-1959 asked.

“A dog,” TK-1936 mocked. “You know that’s not a human running your new squad. The officers call him a dog and now you’ll be one too. A whole squad of dogs.”

TK-1959 felt confused. It was supposed to be their goal to leave the cadre and get into a squad. It was true, Captain Hux wasn’t human but he was near-human. At least he looked near-human, and besides he’d made Captain in the First Order so that had to mean he was good. Especially as a non-human. “I **have** seen him,” he said. “He doesn’t look too alien. And yeah he sounds a little funny but he’s not dangerous.”

“That’s what you think,” TK-1936 warned. “I’ve heard things. From Sergeant. She’s still mad about your new squad. Mark my words, you’ll be back here before the week’s out.”

“Troopers, clear out!”

TK-1927, TK-1984, and TK-1936 all turned and saluted Sergeant. TK-1959 also saluted out of habit. She waved them all at ease and sent her troopers away with a gesture all while keeping her silent gaze on TK-1959.

TK-1959 swallowed heavily. It always felt like Sergeant could read his mind, like she knew exactly what he’d done wrong and when. He stood up straight under her scrutiny and waited for her to scold him for sneaking out without saying goodbye.

“You don’t have to go,” Sergeant said.

TK-1959 felt taken aback. First TK-1936 and now Sergeant? What exactly did people think Captain Hux was? He looked near-human enough! “Ma’am?” he asked.

“All you have to do is say the word and I can talk to Commandant Stiles,” she said. “I can get you back with us, ‘59.”

“‘36 called the captain a ‘dog’,” TK-1959 said. “What’s going on?”

“Captain Hux is dangerous. He may look human, he may have a human father, but he is very much not human in the slightest. He is a dangerous non-human monster and I have reason to believe your life is in danger under his command.”

“Is he incompetent?” TK-1959 asked.

“Not relevant.”

“I think it is. If I’m being assigned someone who’s going to waste me in the field I want to know.”

Sergeant sighed. “It’s not that I think he’s incompetent,” she said. “To be honest, I have no idea how he commands. But I do know he’s dangerous.”

TK-1959 did not feel impressed by this warning. It sounded like the standard ‘don’t trust non-humans’ issue he learned during his history classes. This was neither new nor news.

“Ask your new captain about SK-1042,” Sergeant said. “If he tells you the truth I guarantee you’ll be back here before evening rations are served.”

TK-1959 sighed. “Fine,” he allowed. “I’ll ask him.” He saluted Sergeant. He’d miss them all but he knew he wouldn’t be back.

They were his cadre, they would always be his family, but it was time for him to leave. 

He had a squad now. A squad that TK-1936 called a squad of dogs. Wait.

TK-1959 resolved to ask one of the library droids during his next period of free time. He had a question: what is a dog?

*****

Aptitude testing did not fill TK-1959 with confidence. His AR control was worse than he remembered. He’d never even seen a sniper rifle before, he hadn’t known Stormtroopers used such long unwieldly guns. He knew the basics of artillery but had never actually fired a mortar before. But he was an ace with a pistol. He could hit the bullseye with his pistol at every tested distance.

He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried that the others in his new squad had their own glaring lacks in ability. Or that Captain Hux seemed to watch them all with something like resigned acceptance on his face.

They were back in the simulation room for an hour debrief before evening rations. Captain Hux went over everyone’s scores and detailed each of their strengths and weaknesses with a brutal efficiency that put TK-1959 at ease. At least his squad wasn’t going to be led by a slacker, that would be the worst.

“Are there any questions?” Hux asked.

There were the usual questions. Questions about free time, questions about remedial courses, questions about simulator training, questions about possible missions, questions about the standard-issue Weird Smell in their new barracks. TK-1959 rolled his eyes; every barracks had a Weird Smell when a new squad came in, everyone knew that.

The questions began to die down and TK-1959 raised his hand.

Hux pointed to him.

TK-1959 took a deep breath. “Sir, I was instructed to ask you about SK-1042.”

Hux went still and his eyes seemed to change, their bright green shifting to a dark iridescence. TK-1959 stood his ground even as he felt a shiver of fear run up his spine.

“Who ‘instructed’ you to ask?” Hux asked, voice eerily level.

“My cadre’s Sergeant,” TK-1959 said. “She insisted you were some kind of… non-human monster. She all but ordered me to ask you about SK-1042.”

Hux huffed a short chuckle. “She’s right,” he said conversationally. “I am a non-human monster. I was the monster of the RX cadre.” He glanced at RX-3081 who nodded.

“Every cadre has a monster,” RX-3081 agreed. “Ours was just a little more real than most.”

“But what about SK-1042?” SK-0331 demanded.

Hux looked around the room, visibly annoyed. “You ask this right before dinner,” he mumbled. “It’s your own fault then.” He cleared his throat and his eyes seemed to change back, turning green again. “Fine, I’ll tell you.”

“He fought well,” Hux began. “Remember that. But sometimes a battle isn’t determined by who’s better trained or who’s better armed. Sometimes it’s determined by who hungers more.

“The Supreme Leader set up a test. SK-1042 was chosen for his skill in close quarters combat. He was an expert in it. He would have trained the next cadres. But the Supreme Leader had other plans.

“Neither of us expected an arena battle. Bloodsports were outlawed by the Empire. But there we were, SK-1042 in full armor with Z6 and shield. And myself in a breastplate with a pair of knives. We didn’t know it was a battle to the death until we stood in that arena.”

TK-1959 gasped as the rest of the squad began shouting questions and calling bull-poodoo. Captain Hux was alive, did that mean he’d won in hand to hand combat against a fully armed and armored riot-trained Stormtrooper? With only a pair of knives?

“You called it an arena,” SK-0331 realized. “Who watched?”

“Every general, commandant, admiral, and colonel in the First Order,” Hux spat.

“You survived,” TK-1959 said. “That means you killed him. But you were both ordered to fight, why did my Sergeant insist following orders made you a monster?”

Hux growled and his eyes changed again. He stalked up to TK-1959 and growled long and low. From here TK-1959 could see that the change in the Captain’s eyes were due to pupils that dilated to fill the entire eye, turning it all iridescent black. TK-1959 kept his gaze, refusing to back down.

The room was silent, all waiting for Hux to strike like they all imagined he must have struck then in that arena.

“Because I won the right to eat my kill.”

TK-1959 felt his breath hitch but he stood his ground, continuing to stare Hux in the eye. His Sergeant was right, Hux was a non-human monster. But he wasn’t afraid. Not even as he heard, as he **watched** Hux sniff him, scenting him like an animal. Those black eyes turned green again as those wide black pupils shrunk down to something less menacing.

“Did you?” TK-1959 asked.

Hux bared his teeth in a smile. “It would have been an insult not to.”

TK-1959 nodded once then forced himself to relax into an at-ease position. Hux sniffed him again and then he made a thrumming sound that could only be described as a purr. He sighed in relief as Hux stepped away to address the horrified room.

“Remember, you asked,” Hux warned. “Better to ask before dinner than after, I suppose. Dismissed. All of you.”

Most of the squad ran from the room. TK-1959 could hear sounds of nausea as some of them as they ran.

SK-0331 fixed Hux with a seething glare before pulling on his helmet and leaving the room with his head held high.

TK-1959 sighed in relief before realizing he was now alone in the room with Captain Hux. Captain Hux who had just admitted to killing and eating a Stormtrooper in armed arena combat.

“Why did you ask?” Hux asked. He sounded… strained.

“My Sergeant insisted,” TK-1959 said. “She… Sir, she wants me to transfer back to my cadre. She insisted I ask you, she said it would convince me to go back.”

“And did it? Are you convinced?”

TK-1959 shook his head. “Why would I?”

Hux looked at him with glittering black eyes and TK-1959 wondered how long it had been since the man ate. He then wondered exactly what Hux needed to eat that he’d willingly eat a freshly killed man. The thought struck him that he might be on the menu. He pushed the thought away. “You killed a fully armed and armored Stormtrooper with a pair of knives and your own teeth,” TK-1959 said. “But you were under orders to do so. In addition you were cadre once. You know what a Stormtrooper is capable of and where our limits are. I don’t think you’ll kill me without reason. I know I’m not safe but I don’t think anyone is safe outside of cadre. Sir, I’d like to stay if you’ll have me.”

Hux growled, baring his teeth, and pounced.

TK-1959 didn’t have the time to do more than gasp as he felt a hand grab his hair and yank him backwards. He felt warm wet on his neck and the sharp edges of teeth that grazed his skin. But the bite didn’t come. Instead he felt hot breath against his neck as Hux simply held him in his jaws, toying with his neck like he hadn’t yet decided to bite or not.

TK-1959 felt utterly helpless. If he struggled he’d die. If he pulled away he’d die. He had no weapon to take Hux down with him. Panic threatened to overwhelm him and he didn’t want to die. Instead he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and forced himself to relax.

Hux’s growl rumbled from his neck down through his entire body to his toes. That growl changed, becoming that purring thrum again. It vibrated through him, filling him with warmth.

The teeth pulled away, replaced by a rough flat tongue laving at the skin as that purr continued. Then it was over. TK-1959 stood up, he wasn’t sure if he felt faint or not or what in Chaos that even was. But Captain Hux looked pleased at this new development. “I will inform your Sergeant you will not be accepting a transfer back,” Hux said. “No, you’re mine.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Go.”

TK-1959 took the dismissal and refrained from running. At least, he managed not to run until he was out of the simulation room. He had never been so terrified in his life! And yet he was alive. He was alive and he’d never seen anything move that fast. 

He was terrified, excited, and he wanted to see what happened next. Also he was starving.


	2. First and Last Weapons

The first few days of squad life were very much like life in the cadre.

They didn’t yet have a squad designation, or if they did nobody had seen fit to tell the actual people in the squad. They had no duties as of yet, no orders. Instead they had training. Just like the cadre.

The difference was the people.

RX-3081 took it upon himself to act as an unofficial Second to Captain Hux. This lasted three days until RX-3081 realized such a position would involve doing actual work and he abdicated. SK-0331 kept to himself, his demeanor dull and his temper short. Everyone remembered how SK-1042 died and wondered if they’d been friends.

FN-2304 caught TK-1959 with his unlocked datapad the second night. Rather than reporting him, FN-2304 shared his own unlocked tablet with its own illicit program, a game where two players assembled squads and pitted them against each other. TK-1959 accepted a download of this new program and the two spent half the night playing games across the barracks after lights-out.

The three JNs complained about having to leave their previous squad to join a bunch of wet-nosed cadre cadets. They each took two beds in the barracks, spreading out like they owned the place and would suffer no orders otherwise.

TT-1098 hung out with the pilots to the point where she tried to infiltrate the flight simulator. Reports of contraband snacks must have been exaggerated. GR-8758 needed to be sent to medical to get his cochlear implants checked three times until the droids figured out the wire connecting his left ear hadn't been installed properly.

Captain Armitage Hux did not seem like he was taking it at all well. The one time he showed up for evening rations the droid handed him a nutrient drink and he glared at it like it had insulted him. Maybe it had because he knocked it off the table and stormed out of the mess hall with a low growl.

Watching the captain not eat made TK-1959 nervous. It should have made everyone in the squad nervous. They all knew what Captain Hux ate, they should be nervous.

TK-1959 had a bad feeling about things.

*****

The barracks had showers.

TK-1959 had never been in one before. The cadres only had access to sonic showers and microfiber, sweat and body funk blasted away by the vibration of ultrasonic waves. Showers with water were supposed to be less efficient, something reserved only for squads and officers.

The idea of standing under falling water was strange and slightly unnerving. TK-1959 wasn’t sure he liked it. Soap smelled weird, like the astringence of a medical bay. The wash cloth didn’t get all the crevasses on its own and he found he had to reach into odd places in front of everyone else in order to get himself clean.

At least everyone else had to as well.

It made TK-1959 feel a little less exposed. Still, he didn’t like it.

Which made it all the more odd when Captain Hux stormed into the barracks showers on only the third day of training, stripped like his life depended on it, and commandeered the very first shower he saw. It put him nearest the hall leading to the lockers, right where anyone walking in or out could see him and he did not seem to notice at all. Either that or he didn’t care.

TK-1959 didn’t want to stare. Honestly, he didn’t. But he’d never seen this much of a non-human before. None of them had. Civilized and nearly civilized species usually wore clothing in public. But this wasn’t public, these were the showers and nudity was the norm. That made it harder to not look.

Captain Hux was pale, extremely pale, like he didn’t have pigment at all. Except that was a lie. Those spots TK-1959 had seen on the back of his neck extended all down his spine and farther, broad spots like the markings of an animal. Spots so dark they might have been black lined his spine, fading to brown then to reddish then to something that might have been a normal human skin tone as those spots wrapped around his rear and thighs, his sides, and his shoulders. Even his face wasn’t spared and that was the strangest part. The Captain looked freckled but almost normal while in uniform; here his face was marred with deep spots over his nose and cheeks and mouth, outlining his face like a predator’s muzzle. Those spots grew faint as they trailed down his neck to spill down his chest, a single line of faint brown dots that almost reached his navel.

TK-1959 wondered if the water or the heat somehow made those spots flush dark and visible because they surely weren’t there before now.

Captain Hux stretched and purred under the shower’s spray as he ran his hands through his too-red hair. He yawned lazily, teeth bared and TK-1959 vividly remembered the feel of those teeth on his neck. They seemed impossibly large now, giant fangs that didn’t belong in the maw of any civilized creature. The Captain huffed and snorted, shaking his head as he nearly cavorted in the water while his purr filled the showers with sound.

One by one the stormtroopers in the showers finished up, one eye on their Captain so close to the entrance. Each one tried to leave without being noticed, whether by attempting to creep out or by completely ignoring Hux’s display. Nobody wanted to see those strange eyes watching them, nor did they want to realize why those eyes looked like that.

TK-1959 knew why and it unnerved him. Despite the bright white lights of the locker showers Hux’s pupils blew to fill the entire eye. It meant there was something here that he desperately wanted and unabashedly enjoyed.

After all, officer’s quarters had their own showers, right? At least that’s what everybody said. What reason did Captain Hux have for invading his squad’s showers other than to remind them of his inhumanity?

As though they needed a reminder.

TK-1959 finished up and left, trying to ignore the feeling of deep black eyes watching him and the strange warmth that that purr dredged up in his chest.

*****

Once again they had Simulation Room 23. Unfamiliar techs sat in the technician bay and the warning screen denoting the room’s renovation was gone. Finally it seemed like simulator training might begin.

As like every day so far, Captain Hux stood waiting for his Stormtroopers to assemble. Punctuality was expected of them and the Captain surely had an idea by now of who tended to arrive early, who on time, and who pushed their luck by arriving late.

TK-1959 arrived early as he usually did. RX-3081 always strode in at the very last second, always skating the edge of ‘on time’. SK-0331 generally made a production of coming in five minutes late as though daring the Captain to do anything about it.

This time, however, the lesson began with something like a lecture.

“What are the weapons of a Stormtrooper?” Hux asked.

“The E-11 AR blaster,” FN-2304 said.

“Yes, and?” Hux prompted.

“Blaster pistol, sniper rifle, Z6 baton,” RX-3081 said, sounding almost bored.

“And?”

TK-1959 was confused. What else was there? “The anti-starfighter mortar?” he asked.

At least Hux looked amused. “Fair enough,” he allowed. “What else?”

“What else is there?” FN-2304 asked.

Hux looked out over his squad and began.

“Anything you touch is a weapon. A shield, a bulkhead, a lunch tray. A stick. Every blade from the dull disposable wedges in the mess hall to a monofilament dagger. When combined with the mind and training of a Stormtrooper, anything and everything becomes a weapon.

“Your own body and mind are your first and last weapons. They are the first weapons you ever learn to use and they will be the last weapons you wield before your death.

“I’ve gone over everyone’s training records and the majority of you have gaps. It's nothing that can’t be fixed, I assure you all, but for the most egregious offenses I will be abandoning the standard qualifying system.”

The room erupted in whispers. TK-1959 felt the blood drain from his face. Did that mean he’d never pass his quals in AR or the sniper rifle? He’d never even get the chance? But… but that wasn’t fair!

“The worst gap in everyone’s training is the lack of hand-to-hand combat,” Hux continued. He barely had to raise his voice before the room fell back to uneasy silence.

“That’s what the Z6 is  **for** ,” SK-0331 said.

Hux stepped forward directly into SK-0331’s face. SK-0331 glared at him like he’d been personally insulted while Hux merely allowed his breath to hiss long and low. “The Z6 stun baton is a poor excuse for a weapon,” he said, teeth bared as though daring SK-0331 to answer.

SK-0331 visibly seethed but he didn’t say anything else, instead turning his glare on the wall behind Hux. Hux rumbled, a low growl that felt like it preceded something worse. That worse never came as Hux stepped away and ignored SK-0331 entirely.

“We’ll begin with a practical demonstration,” Hux said. “3081, step forward.”

RX-3081 took a deep breath and stepped forward. He wore his full armor, his helmet in his hands. He looked Hux up and down then swallowed heavily.

“Oh, no, you’re not fighting me,” Hux assured.

RX-3081 visibly relaxed. “How much armor should I wear then?” he asked.

“As much as you feel you require.”

RX-3081 winced then pulled his helmet on.

“Full armor then,” Hux observed. “Very well. Your wrists.”

RX-3081 held out his wrists and Hux clamped two metal bands around the armored wrists. They weren’t connected to each other, instead they looked like thick bracelets worn oddly over the white armor. “Why?” he asked.

“Arms up,” Hux commanded. When RX-3081 complied Hux nodded to the technicians in the bay. A hum was the only warning before RX-3081 jerked, his arms held straight above him and his form stretched as though he’d been strung up. Another nod brought the hologram of a post behind RX-3081, the image of a post with chains and manacles to lend context to the Stormtrooper’s sudden captivity.

“Is this safe?” RX-3081 asked.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Hux said conversationally.

RX-3081 started wiggling, trying to get himself down. “So it’s not safe!”

Hux patted his captive’s breastplate. “Calm yourself, 3081,” he admonished, teeth bared in a twisted grin. “If you tire yourself out now you won’t be able to defend yourself later.”

RX-3081 growled and thrashed once more before going limp. Somehow the sulk could be  **felt** even through the helmet.

“The cuffs are magnetic,” Hux explained. “They can be held at any height in this room to simulate captivity. They’re capable of holding well over a thousand kilos so feel free to treat them like true chains.”

TK-1959 watched as Hux circled the hologram of the post with its captive Stormtrooper, one hand trailing along RX-3081’s armor. The simulation grew, adding an arena with a floor of sand. It was the most complex simulation TK-1959 had ever been in, he thought he could hear the roar of an uncaring crowd and the snorts and snarls of some fighting beast. There was none of the expected washed-out warble of an Imperial holographic simulation, instead it looked almost  **real** . TK-1959 knelt down and tried to pick up a handful of sand. He could hear it crunch under his boots and his armor but he couldn’t touch it.

“1959!” Hux scolded.

“Sir!” TK-1959 felt his face blush as he realized he’d missed most of what Hux had said.

“Repeat what I said about the simulation’s capabilities.”

TK-1959 blushed further. He hadn’t heard a single word. He’d been too wrapped up in the simulation itself. He looked down, closing his eyes to the technological wonder before him. The feel of hot wind ruffling his hair felt like mockery.

“It may look and feel real but I assure you, it is still a hologram,” Hux said. “Do pay attention.”

“Yes Sir.” TK-1959 looked up but Hux had thankfully moved on.

“As I was saying, this is still a hologram,” Hux continued. “You can’t touch it, taste it, or smell it. Complex acoustics attempt to mimic true sound but the technology is still experimental. You can see it and it can interact with you.

“How?” FN-2304 asked.

“Good question,” Hux allowed. “As soon as the battle simulation begins it will no longer be under the technician’s control. They can activate or deactivate it but otherwise the simulation will be operated by a dedicated droid mind. It uses the same laser-guidance technology that the Imperial holograms use to mimic interacting with you.”

“How?” TK-1959 blushed deeper as he realized he’d spoken out of turn.

Hux stopped and fixed TK-1959 with an impatient yet expectant look. It took a moment for TK-1959 to realize he was waiting for the rest of his question. “How is that accomplished?” he asked. “What does it look like in practice?”

Hux smiled, baring teeth. “I’m no technician but I’m sure lessons can be arranged to answer your first question,” he said. “As for the second…”

Hux looked at the stands where the windows to the technician bay hid. “Give me a vornskr,” he called.

A four legged form faded into view. The large monster’s shoulder came up to Hux’s waist. Large paws held claws that gripped the sand. A long lashing tail flicked behind it. The creature’s maw opened slavering jaws somehow filled with more teeth than Hux had. A ruff of fur trailed down the monster’s neck and back, shielding it from the harsh simulated sunlight.

Hux reached out a hand to place it on the monster’s head but his hand instead phased through the hologram. In response the vornskr ducked underneath the hand as though startled, snarling and baring its teeth.

“It reacts to my interaction with it,” Hux explained. “But I have no corresponding sensory response. It’s not physically here and I don’t feel it interacting with me.”

The vornskr growled and pounced. Hux hissed and ducked, one arm raised to protect himself. The vornskr grabbed his arm in its jaws and visibly tugged, trying to bring its prey down. Instead of falling Hux merely brought his own reactions under control and held his arm up. The vornskr dangled from his arm by its jaws, still trying to bring him down.

“The hologram will interact with you as much as the droid brain feels is necessary or until the hologram is shut down,” Hux elaborated. “As this is a prototype system, additional features will be added to the program and the simulation as time goes on. I expect the first will be the addition of electrical feedback or stunning capabilities. At which point, I assure you, you will acquire a sensory response.” He gestured with the arm currently being bitten. “Eventually this will hurt.” He nodded and the vornskr faded from view with a howl of protest.

The hologram shifted, the hot wind coming from a different direction now. RX-3081 seemed to have grown bored, or at least he projected uncaring boredom as he used his current position for pull ups as though he were in a gym.

“At least pretend to take this seriously,” Hux admonished.

“You just said whatever’s coming won’t hurt me,” RX-3081 said.

“Stay flippant like that and  **I’ll** be whatever’s coming.”

RX-3081 immediately stopped goofing off and let his arms fall limp. He went back to playing the pretend captive Stormtrooper tied to a pole in an arena.

“What weapons do you currently possess?”

“My winning personality,” RX-3081 said.

“I said ‘weapon’ not ‘weakness’,” Hux said, deadpanned.

Half the squad tried to hide laughter under their breath. TK-1959 was mostly shocked that their Captain actually joked with anyone, even former cadre. 

“I’m not sure,” RX-3081 admitted. “I guess I’ll find out?”

“I guess you will,” Hux said. He bared his teeth in anticipation and purred. The sound grew ominous as he gestured to the technician bay and then to the post where RX-3081 dangled from chains. Then he stepped back and something growled.

That something wasn’t Hux. It sounded bigger.

“Light and kriff!” RX-3081 screamed as he saw what came for him. The hologram seemed so much bigger than the vornskr though shaped somewhat similar. It had hands on both front and rear paws, hands with fingers that each sported long claws. The beast had vertical-opening jaws that split the creature’s head down the middle like an ax wound. Four eyes, two on each jaw, all fixed on the Stormtrooper tied and dangled as its prey. It screamed and charged.

RX-3081 kicked it as it approached, slamming his boots into the terrible maw. A lucky kick landed in the corner of its maw, at the crown of the head. It pulled back, stunned, before screaming again and raising its claws to instead try and peel all that armor away.

RX-3081 thrashed in his bonds, trying to avoid those grasping hands. He kicked at the thing’s eyes, sending it scuttling back as it screamed again. He pulled himself up like a gymnast on the rings as he tried to use imaginary chains to pull himself onto the top of the holographic pole.

A hum changed the program slightly and RX-3081 found himself balanced on top of the holographic pole. The beast circled below him, snarling and spitting.

Then it all stopped and RX-3081 dropped. The shackles disappeared and the maglock holding him up shut off. He collapsed to the floor. He pulled his helmet off, terror and exertion written all over his face. “The kriff was that?!” he demanded.

“A mhar,” Hux said easily. “Terrifying isn’t it? Tell me, what weapons did you use?”

“You put me up against that thing?!” RX-3081 pointed in the general direction where the hologram had come from. “And it’s going to hit back. You’re going to teach it to hit back!”

Hux ignored RX-3081’s outburst and instead glanced at the rest of the squad. “What weapons did he use?” he asked.

“His feet,” FN-2304 realized. “He got some good kicks in.”

“The post,” TK-1959 said, his own realization coming. “He managed to climb it to get away!”

“He used his whole body in his defense,” Hux agreed. “His surroundings. If they were real I expect he would have used the chains between his hands.

“You are your own primary weapon. Your body, your mind. Your surroundings. The weaknesses of your enemy. The moment you learn to use yourself, your enemy, and your terrain to your advantage your battle is half-won.”

Hux smiled, teeth bared in a feral grin. “Now who wants to go next?”

Suddenly the sand looked very interesting again as nobody wanted to meet Hux’s eyes. Hux smiled and considered his squad before naming his next victim. “TK-1959.”

TK-1959 sighed and stepped forward. He still didn’t fully meet Hux’s eyes as Hux looked him up and down as though considering what to do and how to restrain him. TK-1959 smiled and tried to look nonthreatening.

Hux snorted. “It’s a valid weapon but attempting to look ‘cute’ won’t help you here,” he said. 

TK-1959 hmphed as he heard his squad snickering at him. But the thought stuck with him. “Wait, what?”

“Psychological warfare is as much a weapon as anything physical you might attempt,” Hux allowed. “But you need to be careful. There are a great many situations in which it will not work or, worse, will backfire.”

“I would need an intelligent enemy,” TK-1959 said, an idea forming in his mind. “Like ingratiating myself to a warlord in order to kill him. Or infiltrating a rebel base pretending to be a defector.”

“Yes, those are examples.”

TK-1959 smiled as he had a thought. This could be his battle right here. He wouldn’t face a hologram. He wouldn’t have to lift a single finger. “Or baring my neck to an intelligent predator.”

“Careful,” Hux said, the rumble back in his throat. It felt different this time and that made TK-1959 nervous. “Predators like that can smell your deception.”

“Then I just have to make it want me despite its misgivings.”

Hux circled TK-1959, one hand trailing his armor the same as he’d done to RX-3081. The squad grew quiet as they too realized what was happening. TK-1959 ignored the shock on their faces, the hints of horrified disgust.

“You also have to be clear with what you offer,” Hux purred. “A predator like that might not simply accept what you believe you offer and be content. It might want more. It might even be… hungry.”

TK-1959 waited until Hux circled back to his front then looked him in his wide black eyes. “Are you?”

“Yes.”

TK-1959 gasped and stepped back. Fear shot through him as he realized he’d miscalculated badly. But he didn’t have the chance to run as Hux snarled and pounced amidst the screams of the terrified squad.

Teeth closed over TK-1959’s neck and he felt himself pushed to the floor. But like before those teeth didn’t bite down. Instead they held him, their points grazing his skin in warning. He leaned back and closed his eyes, one hand reaching up to thread through Hux’s hair. Hux purred, warmth invading TK-1959’s body and he whined from the feel of it. Those teeth grazed him again, silencing him. 

He kept his eyes closed as he carded his hand through Hux’s hair. It felt thick around his fingers, soft and very oily. He sighed and relaxed into the mouth around him, letting the predator do what it wanted.

What it wanted was to drop him onto the sandy arena floor.

“You did not survive,” Hux said, sounding pleased. “At least I get to kill one of you today. What weapons did he use?”

“What in kriffing Chaos?!” SK-0331 demanded.

TK-1959 blushed and wanted to hide as the rest of the squad found their shocked voices and started screaming. He heard words like ‘monster’ and ‘tried to kill him’ and ‘pfassking cannibal’ and ‘dog whore’ and he wanted some hologram to hide him from view so nobody could see him. He had no idea how Hux just stood there and took it all. Instead of reacting the man patiently waited for the outrage to die down. When it showed little sign of fading Hux growled, inhaled, then roared. It sounded suspiciously like ‘mine’, or maybe that was just TK-1959’s brain adding the word to the wordless sound.

The squad finally fell quiet.

“Now then,” Hux said, his voice sounding tired and torn. “What weapons did he use?”

SK-0331 found his voice first. “Kriffing whore tried to--”

“That was not my intention!” TK-1959 shouted, panic rising unbidden. He hadn't meant that at all!

“You offered your throat to a known predator in an act of submission,” Hux said, detailing the battle. “Such an act could very easily be taken as an offer of sex, especially given you faced an intelligent near-human predator.”

TK-1959 had no idea his blush could feel this deep. He didn’t even stand up to defend his honor, instead he stayed seated on the sandy floor and hid behind his hands.

“The key to making such an offer is understanding exactly what you offer and what it can be mistaken for,” Hux continued as though this were all normal. “Such offers have been used as successful weapons in social combat situations for as long as societies have existed. Like all weapons I expect you to know you have it at your disposal. That doesn’t mean you are ever required to use it. I expect few of us will ever be put into a situation where we could.

“Now who wants to go next.”

Hux pointed to his next victim, JN-1301. She stepped forward, head held high, and presented her wrists for binding. She fixed TK-1959 with a glare of disgust as Hux calmly attached the magnetic bracelets and dragged her off into the arena for her own moment of captivity.

TK-1959 dragged himself back to the rest of his squad. The others pulled away from him, all eyeing him like he’d done something unforgivable. All except RX-3081 who plopped down next to him. “Wow,” RX-3081 allowed. “Gotta say, didn’t think I’d see that.”

TK-1959 grumbled. “Wasn’t trying to…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He really hadn’t been trying to seduce Hux. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he’d been trying to do. Maybe he’d been trying to figure out what the first time meant, he didn’t know. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe the others were right and Hux was just dangerously close to eating him.

“He’s not mad,” RX-3081 said. “You’re not afraid of him.”

“I’m plenty afraid of him,” TK-1959 protested.

“Yeah but not like them.” He gestured to the rest of the squad. “You're not irrational about it. It means you’re not prey.”

“How do you know?”

RX-3081 shrugged. “He and I were cadre.”

TK-1959 admitted that made sense. He knew cadre.

He missed his own cadre. He wondered how they were doing. Probably better than he was, he’d made a fool of himself today and he wasn’t ever going to get his AR qual. What kind of Stormtrooper didn’t use an E-11 AR blaster?


	3. Familiar Weapons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assault warning  
> Cannibalism warning
> 
> Assault takes place in a shower but nothing sexual is involved

That afternoon they had the firing range.

Firing Range 4-B was constructed as a long range general purpose firing range with up to 450 meters of available length from trooper to target. An armory officer stood on hand to check out weapons, the standard array of pistols, ARs, and sniper rifles. Captain Hux stood with a whole stack of identical white targets, waiting patiently for his squad to return from their midday break.

The smell of spent plasma and burnt durasteel walls stung the nose and gave TK-1959 a distinct feeling of comfort. It was a smell he associated with cadre, mornings spent with his friends as they all joked and laughed and practiced during small arms training. It was also a smell he associated with frustration as the AR kicked in strange ways and he could never get his stance right.

An uneasy sense curled in his stomach. He might never earn his quals with the AR. Could Hux do that? Could he deny any Stormtrooper their quals with the AR? The AR was **the** weapon of the Stormtrooper, if TK-1959 never qualled then what did that make him?

Captain Hux waited for everyone to enter the firing range. All except SK-0331, who must have been running late again. Hux ignored this and began the lesson on time.

“Everyone, pick the weapon you’re most familiar with,” Hux called.

TK-1959 felt his heart sink. Everyone else started requesting the E-11, the standard issue Imperial assault rifle. The true weapon of a Stormtrooper. But the only weapon available that he’d qualled in was the SE-44 pistol. A civilian’s weapon. A **sidearm.** He stepped up to the armorer and lied.

“The E-11,” he said. He took the offered AR and held it awkwardly. It felt too long, the barrel too wide. The plasma cartridge unbalanced it, twisting his stance. He knew all these complaints and more, all of them echoing in his ears with the voice of his Sergeant. He kept his head down, not looking at anyone even as he felt critical eyes judging him.

He heard Hux request the F-11DS sniper rifle.

“I said the weapon you’re most familiar with,” Hux warned, addressing the whole squad.

TK-1959 refused to look up. He could hear the uncomfortable shifting as troopers squirmed in their armor. At least he wasn’t the only one.

“Very well,” Hux said. He sounded resigned, almost disappointed? But they were Stormtroopers! They **had** to use the AR if it was available!

The entire squad took their places along the firing line, each one in a waist-high firing booth. Each booth had a small panel to show scores, ranges, data. Hux set up the targets, hanging the white flimsii with their brightly colored bullseyes one at a time. He touched a panel to pull the set targets back to long range, to 200 meters.

TK-1959 hoped for a lucky shot. He’d never hit better than the 5-ring at 100 meters with the E-11, much less 200. 

“Take the stances you’re most comfortable with,” Hux ordered.

TK-1959 took the standard stance along with every other trooper along the line. It felt wrong.

“One single shot. Fire.”

TK-1959 fired. He did not get a lucky shot. The panel in his booth politely inquired if he’d fired yet. Of course he had, he just… missed.

Hux tapped the panel to bring the targets back up for examination.

TK-1959 felt his shoulders slump as he looked at his completely unmarred target. He didn’t just miss, he missed abysmally. He hadn’t even hit the flimsii backing around the bullseye.

“If this is the weapon you’re all ‘most familiar with’ I am going to kill every one of you,” Hux said. The threat sounded empty, tired. TK-1959 saw why. Out of 20 Stormtroopers only six of them had hit the target at all. FN-2304 hit the 8-ring. RX-3081 hit the 6-ring, the minimum needed to make quals. JN-1301 hit the 4-ring, a ‘needs improvement’ shot that would at least get her permission to wield the weapon in the field. SK-0331 scowled at missing the opportunity to shoot at all. GR-8758 hit the 2-ring, just enough to claim he’d hit the target. TT-1098 was no better off. Nor was FR-2116. Of the rest of them, most had at least hit the flimsii backing.

TK-1959 hadn’t even managed that.

“Several of you aren’t even qualled in the AR,” Hux said, enunciating carefully. “If I can’t expect basic honesty from my own squad then why do I have one? How can I expect any of you to perform in the field if you can’t follow directions here? I do not care one iota what you believe a Stormtrooper is or should be. I am not interested in helping you live up to some holovid fantasy of perfect AR supremacy.

“I am not your Sergeant,” Hux continued. “I am not your Matron. I am not your Handler. I am not here to make you feel better about yourself so you can look perfect while you stand in formation. That is not what this squad is and that is not what thisssssquad will ever be.

“When I order you all to pick the weapon you are most familiar with I am not looking for perrrfect little Stormtroopersss.” Hux growled here and his enunciation failed, instead the sibilants stretching and the Rs rolling. “Instead I want to sssee what you can do. I need to sssee what I have to worrrk with. Now ssstop prrretending and arrrm yourssselvesss with yourrr familiarrr weaponsss…” Hux snarled and shook his head, low hisses escaping at every breath. His eyes were dark with anger, his control over his voice shattered.

TK-1959 felt guilty that their presumption had made him that angry. The thought did not sit well with him as he traded in the E-11 for the much more familiar SE-44 pistol.

He still felt silly. Although now he felt silly and scared and guilty. Here he was, a Stormtrooper, made to use a sidearm pistol like a civilian and pretending otherwise made his captain mad.

RX-3081 sat on the floor of his firing spot and began to assemble his F-11DS to his liking, changing stocks and attaching the extended scope. SK-0331 muscled his way in with an E-11 as though daring Hux to say anything about it. FN-2304 watched RX-3081 and began his own mods, altering the stock of the E-11. GR-8758 kept his F-11DS as-is but immediately dropped to the ground to begin setting up on his belly.

“Make it familiarrr,” Hux purred. He seemed less furious, at least the stretched words sounded less threatening. He altered his own F-11DS, replacing the barrel with the longer variant rarely seen outside of Outer Rim holovids.

TK-1959 looked at his pistol and took a deep breath. Fine. He sighted down range with the pistol, refamiliarizing himself with his own unique stances. Arms out, head down, body turned, the world seemed to magnify for him as he lined up the sights to an imaginary target down the range.

“Everrry weapon has an optimum rrrange,” Hux purred. He let his own F-11DS rest with its butt on the floor, with the extended barrel the sniper rifle stood longer than he was tall. It would seem comical if Hux weren’t so dangerous. “Everrry shooterrr alssso has an optimum rrrange. Today we’ll find that rrrange.” He tapped the range panel again, resetting the targets and pulling them to ten meters.

Ten meters. TK-1959 could handle ten meters. Anybody could handle ten meters.

“Pistols and E-11s only,” Hux commanded. “Take the stansssesss you’re mossst comfortable with. Five shotsss for pissstols, three for the AR. Snipersss do not shoot.”

TK-1959 fell into an easy stance. He could do this with his eyes closed.

“Fire.”

pop-pop-pop-pop-pop

_pap pap pap_

TK-1959 squeezed off five shots into a cross pattern, one shot into the bullseye and four in the 9-ring. It wouldn’t get him the same number of points as five bullseyes in a quals trial but he wasn’t sure this **was** a quals trial.

The targets were pulled forward and Hux glanced at each one. Nobody hit outside the 8-ring. Several achieved true bullseyes, all of their shots into the ten-ring. He lingered on a few targets, the sound of his growl or purr indicating whether that pause was good or bad. TK-1959 earned a purr and a smirk at his exacting pattern and then the targets were reset to 25 meters, their scores logged yet uncounted.

This wasn’t a quals trial then. This was a game.

Five shots for the pistols. Three shots for the ARs. At 50 meters the sniper rifles joined in with one shot each. This was a game of endurance as well as skill. How long until each shooter hit their own maximum range and had to bow out? How many bullseyes could one hit before falling out of the ten-ring?

TK-1959 always added a little more when he played this game. How many little patterns could he draw with only five shots?

Seventy five meters.

pop-pop-pop-pop-pop

_pap pap pap_

**POW**

Hux walked the ranks again, examining their handiwork. Each individual panel showed trends, showed bullseyes and point totals and the location of each shot. He nodded at most of them, no sound now as he seemed to have himself under control.

The targets moved to one hundred meters and here Hux paused. “Much better,” he allowed. “You all have weapons you’re familiar with. But now we’re going to change things a little bit.”

The panels changed, counters flicking on. Points counted now and the time to draw pretty little plasma pictures was over. 

“Shots outside the 6-ring will not be tolerated,” Hux warned. “Each one comes with a warning. Once you’ve reached a critical number your target will be removed and your maximum distance logged.”

“How many misses are we allotted?” GR-8758 asked.

“Five for the pistol, three for the AR, one for the sniper rifle.”

“What?! Only one?” RX-3081 grumbled and changed his stance. Instead of kneeling on one knee, his sniper rifle in his arms stabilized by one shoulder, he dropped to the floor and unfolded the rifle’s bipod.

Hux lowered himself to the floor as well, setting up his own sniper rifle.

“I’m surprised you’re ‘most familiar’ with anything so civilized as a blaster,” SK-0331 muttered.

“If you think I’m too good to fire a blaster you’re sadly mistaken,” Hux said. He sighted down the extended barrel at his own blank target.

“One hundred meters,” Hux called. “Ready.”

TK-1959 sighted down his pistol. Even the E-11 had a scope. And the bell at the muzzle of his pistol did him no favors. “Hold,” he called.

“Something wrong?” Hux asked.

“No Sir,” TK-1959 said. He unscrewed the bell from the end of his muzzle, freeing the sights. He aimed with it, feeling better about his chances now. “Sorry, Sir. Ready.”

“Very well.” Hux paused, sighting down his own scope with the long slow breaths of a sniper. “Fire.”

pop-pop-pop-pop-pop

_pap pap pap_

**POW**

Little angry warning tones marked those who’d missed the 6-ring. TT-1098 swore as she missed the 6-ring three times with her own pistol, even though three strikes wasn’t enough to throw her from the game. SK-0331 took one strike and hit the panel of his firing cubicle as though it might care. 

The targets pulled back to 125 meters.

pop-pop-pop-pop-pop

_pap pap pap_

**POW**

TT-1098 swore as she dropped, falling back to watch the rest of the game. Still, the pistol was considered a short-range weapon and pistol quals were measured at 50 meters. Lasting until 125 meters was nothing to be ashamed of.

Every 25 meters the round began again and the points began to shift. TK-1959 began to sweat from exertion, his wrists hurting from holding the pistol so still. By 150 meters he’d dropped to one knee, changing his stance to something he hadn’t technically been taught and yet still had learned.

At 150 meters the misses began to accumulate. TK-1959 checked his point totals, his worst shot was the 6-ring, still good enough to avoid him a penalty. He breathed slow like the snipers did, watching his pistol twitch with the beating of his heart. This part was always difficult, timing the shots to match that beat so they wouldn’t fly wide.

pop-pop-pop-pop-pop

_pap pap pap_

**POW**

A penalty tone informed TK-1959 he’d mistimed one shot and hit the 4-ring. “Pfassk,” he swore.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” RX-3081 warned.

“Missed,” TK-1959 grumbled. “First miss.”

“Wait, you just now missed?” FN-2304 demanded. “Your first one? You’re on a pistol!”

“I know,” TK-1959 said.

“The optimum range of the AR is 100 meters,” Hux said, words slow with his breath. “The optimum range for the pistol is 50 meters. That’s why quals are tested at those distances.”

“And the sniper rifle?” FN-2304 asked. “I never had the chance to qual with it.”

“Quals are 250 meters,” Hux said. “Due to distance limitations. Most on-ship ranges only extend to 250 meters.”

The targets moved back to 175 meters and TK-1959 took a deep slow breath to try and control his heart. It was interesting that he could hear the snipers doing the exact same thing beside him, he'd never watched a sniper fire at range before.

pop-pop-pop-pop-pop

_pap pap pap_

**POW**

SK-0331 dropped, swearing. Several targets retracted as their shooters were kicked out of the game. TK-1959 glanced around and realized he was the only one left with a pistol. Meanwhile half of the squad’s AR users just got kicked out and were looking at him like there was something wrong with him. 

Two hundred meters and TK-1959 found himself almost impressed with himself. This was his personal best for a bullseye and the absolute farthest he’d ever been allowed to shoot in the cadre. Sergeant was clear, Stormtroopers used the E-11 so they didn’t have to pistol snipe, therefore there was no reason for him to have to shoot from this range with the pistol. Therefore he wouldn't be allowed to train at this range with the pistol so he shouldn't even attempt.

But Hux was also clear, he would never be qualled with the AR. So if he ever wanted to see this distance again he had to use the pistol. Besides, he’d only missed once so far, he had a good chance of making it past this.

“Fire.”

pop-pop-pop-pop-pop

_pap pap pap_

**POW**

TK-1959 collected another penalty but it didn’t matter. He’d made it past 200 meters even as three other AR-shooters dropped. He giggled.

“Everything okay over there?” Hux called.

“I’ve never been allowed to shoot past this distance,” TK-1959 admitted, still giggling.

“With a pfassking pistol,” FN-2304 grumbled.

At 225 meters TK-1959 collected two more penalties but he still managed the 9-ring with one of his shots. With four penalties he was one wild shot away from elimination but it didn’t matter anymore. FN-2304 and JN-1301 both managed to stay in the game but even they were nearing the maximum range of the E-11.

Not that it meant much, the maximum theoretical range for the SE-44 was only 150 meters. They were well beyond that as the targets moved out to 250 meters, the distance used to qual snipers.

“Fire.”

pop-pop-pop-pop-pop

_pap pap pap_

**POW**

TK-1959 finally penaltied out. Instead of hitting the panel and swearing he instead dropped to the floor laughing. FN-2304 dropped as well, leaving JN-1301 and the snipers to duke it out for distance.

JN-1301 dropped at 275 meters, leaving only the snipers.

From there it promised to get boring as the three snipers shot, changed distance, took their time to aim, and shot again.

Surprisingly, Captain Hux dropped out first at only 325 meters. He didn’t seem surprised, instead taking the opportunity to stretch and rub his temples. He was still stretching as RX-3081 took control over the range’s controls and he and GR-8758 competed for distance.

Hux stood, shaking tension from his limbs in slow languid movements. He sauntered over to his squad and stopped in front of TK-1959. “That’s why I’m not qualling you in the AR,” he said. “That’s why I’m not qualling anyone in a weapon they’re not already comfortable with. This is not a parade squad. You’re not here to look pretty like every other Stormtrooper in the First Order. This is a hunter-killer squad. We are assassins. We are an extraction team. We are infiltrators. We get in, we get out, and we do not care whether or not we look **prrretty** while doing so.”

A nervous giggle rippled through the squad.

“If you’re here expecting to march drills and clean your E-11 and buff your armor then I will inform the Supreme Leader of your failure.”

TK-1959 gasped. The Supreme Leader knew about this? Wait, the Supreme Leader was real? He wasn’t just a myth concocted by commandants and generals to make them all feel special?

“I do not answer to General Brendol Huxxx.” Captain Hux spat the name like it was beneath him to say. “And neither do you. This is the Supreme Leader’s project and the general so… grrraciousssly offered all of you for this project.”

TK-1959 did not like the way Captain Hux drew out the word ‘graciously’. There was more going on here that he didn’t like. Why had they all been chosen for this?

“Why?” SK-0331 asked. “Why us?”

Hux hissed, teeth bared as he visibly paused. TK-1959 already didn’t like the answer. Was it because they were all failures in some way? That was it, wasn’t it. There was something wrong with him and that was why he was here.

“My father lacks vision,” Hux allowed. “I have different ideas.”

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m a lazy bastard?” RX-3081 demanded. “That 1959 is a monster with the pistol but can’t qual on the AR? That 8758’s implants didn’t even work when he got here? That 1098 is a washed out pilot trying to get back in?”

TK-1959 saw the look on Hux’s face and realized. “We weren’t expected to succeed.”

Hux looked all of them in the eye and purred. Somehow that purr sounded sad. “That’s why you will.”

*****

_That’s why you will._

TK-1959 stood under the spray of the shower.

He wasn’t sure what to feel right now. He both was and was not a Stormtrooper. He both was and was not fully qualled with all the weapons expected of him. He both was and was not part of a true squad.

What kind of squad operated outside the traditional chain of command? What kind of project was this that the Supreme Leader wanted to form a hunter-killer squad of, what, of _assassins_? Was he little better than a bounty hunter, his loyalty bought by the First Order? He knew as a Stormtrooper he would eventually be asked to kill people in battle but wars weren’t personal! He wouldn’t _know_ the New Republic mercenary he gunned down with his AR.

And now he wouldn’t even have that! He’d never be trained in the AR because, what, he couldn’t handle it? He didn’t **need** it? Of course he needed it, he was a Stormtrooper! All Stormtroopers used the AR as their main weapon! It was… It was pride, he knew. It was pride that had him rebelling against the orders of his squad Captain. But if Captain Hux was right then…

Would he never get orders again?

The hunter-killer squad existed outside the Stormtrooper hierarchy. He was no longer required to follow the orders of any Sergeant, any other squad Captain, not even General Brendol Hux. If ever anyone gave an order that conflicted with the orders of his squad Captain he was supposed to disobey. Could he do that? Could he disobey?

Wouldn’t he simply be shot for insurrection if he did? Shoot first, apologize later. Especially if it were true that General Hux and Commandant Stiles offered him because he was…

...broken.

A Stormtrooper who couldn’t handle a real blaster. Stuck using a pistol like a civilian forever.

TK-1959 felt cold.

Bitterly cold.

Wait.

TK-1959 shivered as he realized someone had cut the hot water. The spray from the shower felt like ice pelting him and his hair was still full of soap. He gritted his teeth and stuck his head under the frigid water, gasping at the shock.

“Time allotment’s over.”

TK-1959 glared at the owner of that voice. A Stormtrooper on guard duty. But he wasn’t facing into the showers, instead he faced something trying to come in through the locker room.

That something snarled. Oh.

“I said, time allotment’s over!”

The trooper shrieked as Captain Hux slammed them into the wall. “No it’sss not,” Hux hissed. 

“Fine, fine!”

Hux let the trooper go and stalked into view.

“Kriffing dog. Not even…”

Hux bared his teeth and snarled at the retreating trooper. The insults faded as the trooper left and took their insults with them. Amazingly enough the water began to grow warm again.

Hux wore nothing but a bathrobe that quickly got tossed onto a bench. He commandeered a showerhead and turned the water on. It cascaded down and he arched into it, purring loudly. Pale flesh flushed then spotted as the water brought all the color to the surface, turning what was a mostly blank spine into something decidedly speckled.

“What does that even feel like?”

Hux’s purr stopped and he glanced over. Only then did TK-1959 realize he’d asked aloud. He looked away, trying to pretend he hadn’t been staring in rapt fascination. “Sorry, Sir, I-I...”

“It feels warm,” Hux allowed. “Like a flush of alcohol. Like releasing a tension you didn’t know you had. Like scratching the worst itch and the irritation all goes away.” He stuck his face under the spray, his pale freckled skin blossoming with dark spots that dotted his face like a muzzle and dripped down his chest. He shuddered with his own rumble, slowly writhing in the water like a serpent trying to shed its skin.

“You don’t have anywhere else you can do this?”

Hux pulled out from under the spray, dark and red spots trailing down his back and marking his face. Half-closed hooded eyes only barely hid his deep black eyes. “You mean ‘don’t officers have their own showers’,” he said. There was a bitterness to his words even if the tone didn’t make it past the purr. “I have a sonic.”

“Wait…” TK-1959 had heard that all officers had access to water-based showers. Why would his Captain, who obviously had this alien reaction to water, be denied the ability to partake in privacy?

“You’re learning,” Hux said. This time the purr fell and the sarcastic bitterness came through.

TK-1959 felt a knot of something like disgust form in his stomach. Hux shouldn’t have to invade his squad’s showers to get this. He felt like he was intruding on what could be an intensely private moment, one Hux was forced to essentially take in public. “I should let you… be alone...” He looked away.

Hux hummed, ducking back under the spray of water. He shook out his too-red hair, the oily strands flicking water away even as they soaked and that too seemed alien. TK-1959 left without a word, padding softly away until he reached the locker room.

Someone somewhere had it out for his Captain.

As much as he was going through this seemed worse.

He sat on the bench in front of his locker when SK-0331 came through.

TK-1959 raised a hand in greeting.

SK-0331 nodded then continued on without a word. With two Stormtroopers in armor behind him. Towards the showers.

TK-1959 thought nothing of it, this was a Star Destroyer there were Stormtroopers everywhere, but then he heard the hiss.

Wait, what?

TK-1959 followed the sound. Hux was still in the shower. One trooper held him still, had him grabbed and hoisted by the arms with his feet dangling just off the floor. The other stood guard, fully armed with an E-11 and holstered blaster. SK-0331 stood in front of Hux, massaging his fists as though preparing them.

TK-1959 ducked back out of sight. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go to a superior officer, that **was** his superior officer about to take a beating from two fully armed and armored Stormtroopers and a member of his own squad! He glanced around, looking for something, anything.

The trooper holding Hux captive wasn’t armed. His weapons were laid here on the bench leaking blaster oil into Hux’s bathrobe. He wanted to take the E-11 but he was so much better with the SE-44. He grabbed the pistol and stepped into the showers just as SK-0331 threw the first few punches.

“Stop it,” TK-1959 said in what he hoped was a threatening voice.

It was not. Certainly not given the trooper on guard snorted at him.

SK-0331 looked much more intimidated, almost as though he’d watched what TK-1959 could do with a blaster pistol earlier that afternoon. He pointed at Hux. “You know what he’s done!”

Hux growled low.

SK-0331 looked back at the trooper on guard. “Don’t let him fire that thing!”

“It’s just a pistol,” the trooper scoffed but he raised his AR anyway.

TK-1959 quickly aimed and fired several shots. He hit the trooper in both hands, causing him to drop the AR. Two more shots at the floor sent the AR skittering away. “It’s just a pistol,” TK-1959 repeated, a mocking grin daring anyone to come closer.

“He killed 1042!” SK-0331 exclaimed, gesturing to Hux again. “You can’t defend that!”

“If he doesn’t shoot you first I’m going to kill you too,” Hux growled.

“Killing Hux isn’t going to bring him back,” TK-1959 pleaded.

“I have to do something! We promised each other! We--” SK-0331 screamed and slammed his fist into Hux’s stomach.

Hux spat blood that swirled away on the wet shower floor.

The trooper on guard managed to pull his own pistol with shaking, bleeding hands. He pointed it at TK-1959.

SK-0331 looked at the standoff around him. “Fine then,” he snarled. “You want to watch, ‘59? You can watch. You can watch as I kill the monster that ate the man I love.” He screamed and swung again.

He didn’t connect. Or at least, he didn’t connect the way he wanted to.

Hux pulled his legs up and kicked, slamming both feet into SK-0331’s chest. The force threw both SK-0331 and his captor off their balance, the lot of them all crashing to the wet floor. As armor hit the floor Hux writhed, twisting in his captor’s grip and sliding free. He crouched low, growling, waiting for an opening.

TK-1959 fired two shots into the melee. Both armored troopers went down. Then he held the blaster on SK-0331.

“You were SK-1042’s lover,” TK-1959 mused. “What sadist decided to torture you by putting you under Hux’s command?”

“Someone who knew I wanted revenge.” SK-0331 made to stand up only to find himself looking up into his own nightmare. Hux loomed, bloodied teeth bared and his eyes gone black with battle rage.

“Someone who wanted us all to fail,” TK-1959 said casually.

Hux stayed where he was, looming and growling and visibly holding himself back.

“What are you waiting for, shoot him!” SK-0331 slid away from the monster only for it to follow him all the way to a wall.

“Why?” TK-1959 asked. “He hasn’t done anything to you yet. Besides, unlike you I’m not about to assault my commanding officer. So, someone who wanted us all to fail.”

“You’d have been fine,” SK-0331 insisted, hands scrabbling at the wet floor. Hux’s breath stank like hunger. “You’d have gone back to your cadre and learned how to be a real Stormtrooper, the whole record sealed. Don’t you want that? You can be the Stormtrooper you wanted to be! We don't have to be dogs!”

Hux snarled, spots shifting as he moved. It would be mesmerizing to watch if TK-1959 didn’t feel like he was deciding who lived and who died.

TK-1959 did want to be a Stormtrooper, it was all he'd ever wanted. But in only a few weeks he’d learned so much more. His cadre always underestimated him because he was short and because at 22-ish he still had no AR control. Before this there’d been talk to shifting him into one of the technical branches where he wouldn’t be a bother. A liability. 

TK-1959 made his choice, flicked a switch on the blaster, and fired.

SK-0331 slumped to the floor under heavy stun.

Hux’s growl stopped in shock. He looked at TK-1959 with deep green eyes. With those eyes and teeth, with all those spots, it seemed for a moment that there was nothing human about him left. Then he smiled and sighed deeply in relief.

“What now?” TK-1959 asked.

“I know who assigned him,” Hux said, his voice scratchy from all the growling. “I know who assigned all of you. I can’t say I’m surprised.” He pulled away from SK-0331 and considered the room. He crouched next to an armored trooper, the one with burnt hands and his AR skittered away in the water. “Until then you may want to have a droid drag SK-0331 to the medics.”

“What about you?” TK-1959 asked.

Hux purred as he pulled the trooper’s helm off. An unassuming man with brown hair once wore this armor; the blaster bolt to his chest ended that. He began to unfasten the pauldrons and breastplate.

“Sir?!” TK-1959 demanded. He had a terrible feeling about this.

Hux purred, his eyes gone black again. “I have standing permission from the Supreme Leader,” he warned. “Unless you want to watch I suggest you leave.”

TK-1959 backed away in horror as he watched Hux pull the breastplate away. He lifted the trooper up to bare the neck and bit. TK-1959 could **feel** the familiarity of the bite but it didn’t stop, instead it crunched and Hux pulled. Blood sprayed, dripping down and swirling in the water, staining white into red, and TK-1959 ran.

He did not want to watch at all and someone had to report this.


	4. Mercy

TK-1959 stood at the end of a long conference table. Opposite him sat men in carefully pressed uniforms, all of them old enough to have sired him. General Pryde, Admiral Brooks, Commandant Stiles, Colonel Quinn, and at the head of the table General Brendol Hux himself.

This was entirely unnecessary. TK-1959 had already given his statement to the protocol droids and then to the Stormtrooper Captain. He’d been clear and concise, everything required of him. There was no reason for this tribunal, other than perhaps because the assaulted officer was General Hux’s own half-human son.

“Describe the events that occurred,” Pryde commanded.

TK-1959 took a deep breath and described as best he could the assault. He’d just left the showers when SK-0331 and two armored and armed Stormtroopers entered the locker room. He didn’t think anything of it, SK-0331 was dressed as though prepared for a late shower and Stormtroopers were a common sight on any ship. He stopped in the locker room to dry off and get dressed and that was when he heard the hissing.

“This ‘hissing’, is this an odd sound?” Brooks asked.

“Not especially,” TK-1959 admitted. “It’s a sound Captain Hux makes when displeased.”

“And knowing that the sound is associated with your captain’s displeasure caused you to investigate,” Quinn prompted.

“Yes Sir,” TK-1959 said. “I looked in on the showers and found Captain Hux held bound by one Stormtrooper while the other stood guard. SK-0331 stood before Captain Hux, visibly preparing to begin an assault.”

“How can you be sure of this?” General Hux asked.

“If I may demonstrate, Sirs,” TK-1959 said. He then raised his hands and began to massage them, cracking his knuckles within their armored gloves. He then formed a fist, pressing it in his left hand as a promise of a beating.

“And what did you do?” Quinn asked.

“The Stormtrooper who held Captain Hux captive had disarmed himself,” TK-1959 explained. “He left his weapons in the locker room. I took his pistol. I did not have the chance to determine its setting.”

“Why not?” Pryde asked.

“Because SK-0331 had already begun his assault.”

General Hux looked disgusted by TK-1959’s words and TK-1959 had to agree. The idea that a Stormtrooper would assault his own commanding officer in the shower was disgusting. The potential for such conduct should have been weeded out by these very officers before it had the chance to occur.

“I ordered them to stop,” TK-1959 continued. “SK-0331 paused his assault and tried to convince me of its necessity.”

“What exactly did he say?” Pryde asked.

“‘You know what he’s done’.”

“And that’s when you first fired your pistol,” Pryde said.

“No Sir.”

Pryde looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “No?”

“No Sir,” TK-1959 repeated. “I didn’t fire until after the Stormtrooper on guard raised his weapon at me. Even then I only fired to disarm. I wounded his hands. Once he dropped his E-11 I aimed for the weapon multiple times to push it out of reach.”

Pryde glanced at General Hux.

“That matches the ballistics analysis,” Quinn agreed. “Proceed, trooper. What happened next?”

“SK-0331 continued to justify his actions,” TK-1959 said. “The Stormtrooper on guard pulled his own pistol on me.”

“Repeat what SK-0331 said,” Quinn commanded.

TK-1959 recited what he could. SK-0331 felt he had to do something. TK-1959 tried to talk him down to no avail. SK-0331 invited TK-1959 to watch as he killed the man who ate his lover.

Pryde glanced back at General Hux again. General Hux looked almost defensive of this information.

“SK-0331 threw two more punches,” TK-1959 continued. “Captain Hux used the second one as an opening and managed to kick SK-0331 away from him. I used the opening to disable the two armored Stormtroopers.”

“With a weapon set to kill,” Pryde admonished.

“With all due respect Sir, the SE-44 requires lowering the weapon and engaging two hands to change its setting. I did not feel it safe to lower my weapon while such a weapon was aimed at me.”

“Of course,” Quinn said. “Your actions were correct. Continue your statement.”

“With the Stormtroopers disabled the situation changed,” TK-1959 explained. “I took the opportunity to interrogate SK-0331 at blasterpoint.”

“ **You** took the opportunity?” General Hux asked. “Why you?”

“Captain Hux… may not have been able to perform the interrogation himself,” TK-1959 admitted. “He was... “

“He was incapacitated?” General Hux asked, disgust clear in his voice.

“No Sir. He was…” TK-1959 searched for a word he might use in polite company for the animalistic rage he knew his Captain was capable of. “He’d gone feral, Sir. Like a monster.”

“Were you afraid?” Brooks asked.

TK-1959 shook his head. “No Sir. It wasn’t directed at me. In fact, he seemed to tailor his ferocity to my interrogation. It gave me the time to set my weapon to stun.”

“And what did you learn?” Pryde asked.

“SK-0331 believed the person who approved his reassignment to Captain Hux’s command knew he and SK-1042 were lovers. He believed he had implicit permission to seek revenge for SK-1042’s death. He believed if I’d allowed him to kill Captain Hux I would have been sent back to my cadre and we all would have been better off.”

“Did you believe him?” General Hux asked.

TK-1959 observed the room. He noticed how Pryde and Brooks both glanced back at General Hux for guidance before turning to him for his answer. Colonel Quinn dutifully took notes on his datapad, recording the session. Commandant Stiles at least seemed encouraging, like he was actually interested in TK-1959’s answer.

TK-1959 did not like this at all. He would have felt safer with Captain Hux’s teeth around his neck. 

“I didn’t have to believe him,” TK-1959 said carefully. “I’m not the type of man who turns a weapon on my commanding officer.”

“Commendable,” Quinn praised.

“And then you stunned SK-0331,” Pryde said.

“Yes Sir.”

“There’s one detail that I’m having trouble reconciling,” Brooks mused. “Why does Captain Hux use your showers at all?”

TK-1959 found the question odd but saw no harm in answering. After all, Captain Hux’s reason was entirely innocent. “The water,” he explained. “Our squad showers are water based.”

Pryde didn’t even try to hide the look he gave General Hux. “Why would that matter?” Pryde asked.

TK-1959 wasn’t sure the question was directed at him at all. It seemed directed to General Hux instead. But the general didn’t answer even as his composure seemed to break and he went red in the face.

“Do you have an answer?” Quinn asked and this was directed at TK-1959.

“Yes Sir,” TK-1959 said, keeping his voice level as though this were an entirely normal question. “Captain Hux is marked with an extensive pattern of spots over his torso, limbs, and face. Water causes these spots to flush dark. The experience appears to be an enjoyable one.”

TK-1959 did not expect General Hux to blush quite so red at such an innocent explanation. Nor did he expect Pryde and Brooks to give the general such judgmental glares.

“That will be all, Trooper,” General Hux said quickly. "You're dismissed."

“Sir?” TK-1959 asked. The Stormtrooper Captain had asked him several more questions, about the aftermath and whether or not he could have stopped Captain Hux from ripping both dead troopers to shreds.

“I **said** that will be all,” General Hux snapped, an oddly familiar growl in the back of his throat.

TK-1959 saluted and left. Once outside slumped against the hallway. That had been… odd.

Odd and dangerous. He had the strange thought that General Brendol Hux might have been involved in SK-0331’s assignment. But that was ridiculous, what kind of father would attempt to kill his own son like that? Or more likely, what had SK-0331 done that General Hux felt he needed to die?

*****

It was three days later that TK-1959 found out SK-0331 was still alive. The squad had been on Individual Duties since the assault, self-led lessons, and TK-1959 figured he could afford to skip out on one of them. Instead he made his way down to the detention level.

He wasn’t alone.

“Captain,” TK-1959 greeted.

Captain Hux stood outside the cell. He glanced over and nodded before turning back to look through the cell’s window.

The cells were pitiful things befitting of the traitors who would populate them. Bare metal hallways wide enough for full prisoner transfers gave way to inset doors each with a single window reinforced by a grate. The cells themselves were essentially empty, a flat bench for sleeping and a raised toilet with no privacy, and so small a man didn’t even have the space to stretch out on that bench.

“I’m surprised he’s still alive,” TK-1959 mused.

“So am I,” Hux admitted.

“What happens now?”

“Normally, he’d be executed,” Hux said. “He assaulted his own commanding officer with the intent to kill.”

“It’s what he deserves,” TK-1959 spat.

“Is it?” Hux looked contemplative as he stared into the tiny cell. “Someone tried to use him as a weapon against me. Clumsily, I might add.”

“If you’d been alone…”

Hux smirked. “If I’d been alone I would still be here,” he purred. “SK-0331 and his accomplices would have died messy deaths. I’ve survived worse, I assure you.”

TK-1959 shivered. He believed it.

“I’m not one to toss away a weapon simply because it was used against me. Not when I can repurpose it.”

TK-1959 watched his captain and saw the machinations crossing his features. There was a ruthless streak to his captain that TK-1959 appreciated. It made him feel comfortable knowing that such ruthlessness led him, honed him, and could be turned to the benefit of the First Order. He wanted to make his captain proud.

Footsteps echoed in the bare corridor and TK-1959 saluted as Commandant Stiles approached. Captain Hux also saluted but he seemed distracted, his attention still on the man in the cell.

“Captain Hux,” Stiles greeted. “Your father sends his regards.”

“I’m sure he does,” Hux said. 

“It’s been decided to leave the trooper’s fate to you,” Stiles said. He pulled a blaster out of his coat and handed it to Hux. “You are his superior officer and you were the wronged party. His life belongs to you.”

TK-1959 saw the twitch of Hux’s eyes, the sudden black that accompanied something he wanted. Hux took the offered blaster and tapped the door panel. The door slid open.

The cell barely measured a meter and a half square. SK-0331 sat without armor or clothing on the bare metal bench. He wore the same underclothes that the med bay must have provided him. The toilet smelled from here and TK-1959 wondered how someone like Hux could stand it.

“You’re here to kill me,” SK-0331 realized. He didn’t move to get up, instead he looked down at his hands. “At least make it quick. Like you did for him.”

“You belong to me,” Hux agreed. “Tell me, if you had the chance would you try to kill me again?”

SK-0331 didn’t move. Instead he tensed, waiting for the shot. “Why does it matter?” he asked. “You won. I’m dead. Just kill me and e-eat me, get it over with.”

Hux reached out and grabbed SK-0331’s chin, tilting the man’s face up to look at him. Wide green eyes met with empty brown ones. Hux audibly sniffed, smelling him. “Your life belongs to me,” he said. “I’ll not waste it today.”

Hux stepped out of the cell, handed Stiles back the pistol, and gestured for SK-0331 to follow.

“You can’t do that!” Stiles protested. “It was decided that--”

“It was decided that his life belongs to me,” Hux said, repeating Stiles’ own words. “Whether or not he dies is my choice and my choice alone. For now he lives.”

“He tried to kill you,” Stiles said, pointing out the obvious.

“Many people have tried to kill me, Commandant. None have succeeded yet.”

SK-0331 stood in the doorway to his cell, looking out into the hallway in a mixture of disbelief and shock. TK-1959 felt that same shock. Hux wasn’t going to kill the traitor? Machinations aside, did he not consider an attempt on his own life to be a crime befitting of execution? What was going on here?

“It was decided you would kill him!” Stiles shouted.

“And I probably will,” Hux agreed. “But not today. You gave him to me. I’ve decided I’m keeping him until he outlives his usefulness. He’s mine.”

“The generals will hear of this,” Stiles threatened.

Hux grinned, baring teeth as he rumbled. “Maybe you should have thought of that before giving them to me,” he warned. “They’re all mine. All of them. Next thing you know I’ll be giving them names.”

Stiles looked horrified at the prospect. “You wouldn’t dare…”

Hux glanced over and TK-1959 stood up straight. TK-1959 knew he shouldn’t be here, Stormtroopers weren’t supposed to be present when officers argued but…

Hux looked him up and down and purred. “I like Mitaka,” he said. “That’s a good name.”

Stiles went red and gaped, too affronted to speak.

TK-1959 felt the breath leave his throat. A name? An actual name? He didn’t remember his old name, the one he had on the planet of dust and pain and hunger. All he ever knew was his number. But a name… He tried it out on his lips. “Mitaka…” He could feel the letters of his designation number in the name and that made it comfortable. He could…

Mitaka smiled. Yes, he liked this name very much.

“You can’t do this,” Stiles ordered, shaking with barely controlled anger. “It won’t be recognized. It doesn’t mean anything! You can’t just **name** your pfassking DOGS!”

“I thought every hound master named their dogs,” Hux said, his tone past the edge of insubordination.

“Your father will hear of this,” Stiles threatened. He turned on his heel and stormed off.

“How come he gets a name and I don’t?” SK-0331 asked.

“You tried to kill me.”

“Fair enough.”

Mitaka giggled. He had a name! Okay, he had half of a name. And he apparently couldn’t use it in public because it didn’t mean anything. But he liked it. And maybe one day it **could** mean something.

“Hey, Mitaka,” SK-0331 called. “TK! Let’s go! Unless you want to loan me your pants.”

TK-1959 snapped out of his thoughts. Captain Hux was already halfway down the corridor with SK-0331 behind. He ran to catch up.

*****

The next day they were all back in Simulation Room 23 and SK-0331 was early.

Whether or not being early was his choice was another matter. It likely wasn’t given he wore no armor, only his cloth underarmor. Captain Hux certainly seemed smug about the situation as Stormtroopers filed in before the lesson began and gawked. They all collected in the middle of the room, nobody willing to ask the obvious question. Only TK-1959 didn’t look disturbed or confused, instead he was eager to get the lesson underway. Today promised to be interesting.

RX-3081 broke the awkward silence first. “He tried to kill you,” he said, pointing to SK-0331.

“I am aware,” Hux agreed.

RX-3081 merely pointed, mouth left agape in shock.

“He’s not the first and he won’t be the last,” Hux said as though this made everything alright. Perhaps in his own mind it did.

The entire squad was on time for once. Then again, the most egregious offender was stuck at the front of the room without his armor like he was part of today’s presentation.

“Today will be a demonstration of technology,” Hux announced. He produced a small box and opened it, revealing two small devices about the size of a droid's eyes. He picked one and stuck it behind his ear. The device lit up, biting in with tiny teeth that held it in place. He offered the second device to SK-0331.

“What is it?” SK-0331 asked.

“It’s part of the advanced simulation,” Hux allowed. “It’s based off of the Skywalker penalty. You’ve never faced it, have you?”

SK-0331 shook his head.

“Few have,” Hux said ominously. “The lightsabre has a rudimentary stun effect built into it. This device allows us to use a similar effect without having to fail a sim that badly.”

SK-0331 attached the device behind his ear. He winced as it bit in then activated.

“Staves,” Hux called. The holographic images of two duraplast staves appeared in the room between both him and SK-0331. He picked one and somehow interacted with it, picking it up. The hologram moved with him, responding as he twisted it, as he lunged with it, as he swung it.

Hux went into a lecture on the basics of the technology. The same droid brain that handled interactions had been upgraded. Now it was capable of producing holographic weapons that could be wielded in real time by two combatants through the usage of the neural amplifiers he and SK-0331 now wore. At the end of each session the amplifiers could be removed and passed around from combatant to combatant.

Any weapon controlled by the joint efforts of the droid brain and a neural amplifier had the ability to interact with a combatant wearing the second amplifier. Hux demonstrated this by phasing the holostaff through TK-1959 then by striking SK-0331 in the chest.

SK-0331 howled as the holostaff arched a shocking bolt through him.

“You couldn’t just kill me with a blaster?” SK-0331 demanded. “You have to do it now with a holo-stick?”

“This won’t kill you,” Hux said.

“Like kriff it won’t.”

Hux placed the holostaff in midair and let go. It floated where he put it. “We’ll level the playing field a little,” he offered. He then reached up to his uniform jacket and began to undo the fastenings.

“Um, Sir?” TK-1959 asked.

Hux looked up from what he was doing. He pointed to the edges of the room. “We’ll need room for combat,” he said, an unspoken order for everyone to clear the floor.

“But why are you removing your uniform?” TK-1959 asked.

“You’re not fighting naked,” RX-3081 said.

SK-0331 snorted.

“I’m not fighting naked,” Hux agreed. He slid his uniform jacket off, leaving him in his undershirt, his dog tags, and the visible knife sheaths on his forearms. He unfastened those and wrapped them in his uniform jacket, handing the bundle to TK-1959.

“Only two?” RX-3081 asked.

Hux sighed and removed his belt, three small throwing knives just visible where they were set inside the belt buckle.

RX-3081 merely arched an eyebrow.

Hux growled and reached into his boots to add two more to the pile.

RX-3081 crossed his arms and scowled.

Hux snarled and reached under his waistband down his right leg. He unbuckled something and drew yet another knife sheath from inside his jodhpurs. He then glared at RX-3081 as though daring him to escalate further.

RX-3081’s composure broke. “I was just wondering how long you’d keep going,” he admitted, caught halfway to disbelieving laughter. “Do you have enough knives?!”

“I was right, the shower is the only safe place to ambush you,” SK-0331 realized.

Hux plucked the holostaff from the air and draped it over his shoulders. “TK-1959 is the only reason you’re still alive,” Hux said conversationally. "You should thank him for that."

“He shot me.”

“He did,” Hux agreed. “That’s why you’re alive. I would not have stopped there. Whoever sent you to achieve your vengeance wanted you dead.”

SK-0331 looked away.

“If you succeeded in killing me you’d be executed. If you didn’t I was supposed to kill you. Either way you’d be dead. That’s why you were assigned to this squad, to end up dead.”

SK-0331 took visibly deep breaths. His hands grasped at nothing, wanting to squeeze something.

“I’m curious as to why,” Hux continued. “What dirty secret do you represent, hmm?”

SK-0331 glared at Hux, eyes flashing with repressed fury.

Hux used his holostaff to point at the second staff. It still hung untouched where it had generated. “Take it,” he tempted. “We’re equally armed. Neither of us armored. Indulge me.”

“We are not equally armed,” SK-0331 protested. “Not with those teeth of yours.”

“Maybe someday you’ll earn the right to remedy that,” Hux purred, teeth bared playfully. He brought his holostaff around to an en garde position and began.

SK-0331 jumped back, grabbed his own holostaff, and brought it up to block. The two holograms met, emitting a loud crack of energy. Both pulled back, surprised by how real it felt, and then SK-0331 swung.

Hux blocked then pushed with his holostaff and somehow that push felt just as real.

Experimental strikes and shoves led to the realization that this simulation could be treated as entirely real.

Only then did Hux crouch down and snarl in challenge as he raised his weapon and charged.

SK-0331 swung wildly, staff held like an awkward club as he tried to dodge the rampaging beast. Hux blocked and jumped and dodged, avoiding the frantic wave of the holostaff.

And then SK-0331 got lucky. His staff hit Hux in the head, the sudden shock throwing Hux to the floor.

SK-0331 shook as he held his holostaff in front of him. Hux didn’t move. 

SK-0331 poked Hux’s limp body with his holostaff. Hux twitched at the buzz of the shock but he didn’t move.

SK-0331 took a deep breath and screamed. He raised the staff over his head, intending to bring it down on Hux's head again and again, to kill.

Hux reached out with both hands and grabbed SK-0331’s ankles, yanking him to the floor. The swing went limp and Hux easily caught the end of the staff in one hand. The buzzing shock sounded louder than anything in the room as Hux twisted the weapon from SK-0331’s hands and tossed it away.

Hux snarled, titanium fangs shining with saliva. He grabbed SK-0331 as the stormtrooper screamed.

Hux’s jaws closed over the trooper’s neck and…

...and nothing. SK-0331 trembled in terror but he wasn’t dead. Hux merely held him there, mouth around his neck and teeth at his throat.

A sense of tense anticipation seeped through the room. What happened next seemed so clear. SK-0331 tried to kill Captain Hux. This was an execution, a chance for SK-0331 to die with a weapon in his hands, with some dignity. But then why didn’t Captain Hux finish it? What was he waiting for?

Terror evolved as SK-0331 sobbed. “Please,” he whimpered, voice catching. The sound echoed in the silent room. “Pleeeease…”

Hux growled and shifted, dragging SK-0331 by his neck. He grabbed the trooper with both hands, repositioning them on the floor so his squad could see exactly what he was about to do.

Tears stained SK-0331’s face as he clawed at the floor, as Hux’s shoulders, at everything and nothing. It didn’t help as Hux angled SK-0331’s neck so the squad would see every detail of the killing bite.

The bite that didn’t come.

TK-1959 was the first to relax, the first to realize that bite wasn’t coming.

Then RX-3081. Then JN-1301. TT-1098, FN-2304, the realization rippled through the squad in a chorus of relieved sighs.

Hux let go.

Blood streaks betrayed where teeth had broken the skin and Hux licked the wounds clean as SK-0331 shuddered in shock. Then he backed away from the terrified trooper and stood.

“You wouldn’t stand a chance if I wanted you dead,” Hux said, voice scratchy from ill use. He focused his attention on the rest of the squad. “The next time one of you tries to kill me, for all of your sakes you had better succeed. Next time I won’t show leniency. Next time I will kill my attacker, I will devour them, and **all of you** will join me in that feassst. Do I make myself clear?”

No one answered.

“Do I make myself clearrr!” Hux bellowed.

“Yes Sir.” A smattering of answers all came out of sync, all the same timid two words.

Hux pulled the neural amplifier from his neck. “FN-2304 and FR-2116,” he called.

Both troopers looked at each other, took deep breaths, and stood.

Hux held the neural amplifier for one of them to take. He growled when nobody took it, prompting FN-2304 to shy back and FR-2116 to grab the device.

Hux nodded and pointed to SK-0331 still curled up shaking on the floor. “Take his,” he said.

FN-2304 sighed in relief. He knelt down next to SK-0331 and reached behind his ear. “You okay?” FN-2304 asked.

SK-0331 whimpered. “No…”

“2304,” Hux warned.

FN-2304 picked the neural amplifier from SK-0331’s neck. He stood and placed it on his own neck. FR-2116 slapped his own on as well.

“You’ve seen a basic demonstration,” Hux allowed. “With the device you can order the simulation to produce any melee weapon you want, within reason, and it will work. At the moment the simulation works best with long-hafted weapons, staves and spears and clubs. Over time I anticipate the simulation will learn other weapon types. A strike from any weapon feels like a stunning shock, at most it will daze. These strikes are meant to teach, not to incapacitate.”

“You’d know,” SK-0331 muttered as he tried to get up.

Hux merely purred in response.

SK-0331 pulled himself to his feet and trudged to the wall. He fell against it and slid down, letting his face hide behind his knees.

“For today we’re going to test the limits of the simulation,” Hux continued. “The only melee weapon a Stormtrooper is required to learn is the Z6 baton. Some of you are qualled, some of you are not. For today you will all take turns with the neural amplifiers.”

“What do we do with them?” FN-2304 asked.

“Think of a melee weapon you want to try and try it out,” Hux said. “Try different combinations. The only limitation is the Z6. Because the Z6 is something you are expected to wield, it will not be accepted as a valid weapon for the duration of this simulation.”

“You want us to think of interesting weapons and hit each other with them,” FR-2116 realized. The stupid grin on his face betrayed how much he liked the idea.

That stupid grin must have been contagious because FN-2304 had it too.

“That’s the idea,” Hux agreed.

FR-2116 thought of a weapon and it appeared and it looked somewhat ridiculous. He held a 3 meter long haft with what looked like a sword at the end of it, a swordspear. He gave some practice swings and stabs with it before falling into a fighting stance, the sword end ready.

“Give me a minute,” FN-2304 complained. He thought of his own weapon and a sword appeared in his hands. He grabbed the end of the blade and pulled, the sword splitting into a chain whip.

“Stars that’s cool,” FR-2116 exclaimed in delight at seeing the chain whip.

“Watch this,” FN-2304 bragged as he swung the chain whip around. Perhaps the simulation had other ideas or perhaps FN-2304 wasn’t as skilled as he thought he was. For whatever reason he screamed as he caught himself in the back with the whip and got hit with his own weapon’s stun.

TK-1959 laughed openly. He wasn’t the only one as much of the squad’s tension broke and the inherent fun of this lesson dawned on them all. Now troopers looked on in interest and anticipation; they began discussing what weapons they wanted to try. Ideas ranged from the simple and easy, like spears, to the outlandish, like the chain flail that TT-1098 read about once. Then RX-3081 mentioned the idea of trying out a lightsabre.

FN-2304 replaced his chain whip with a war scythe. “How long do we have?” he called.

“Until one of you yields, until a knockout, or until I call time,” Hux answered.

FR-2116 giggled and made the first move, thrusting his swordspear as FN-2304 blocked. 

TK-1959 watched as the two men playfully batted at each other as only Stormtroopers with new weapons could. But he noticed SK-0331 hadn’t come off of the wall. He extracted himself from the spectacle and got up, moving to the wall so he could sit next to SK-0331.

“Hey,” TK-1959 said.

SK-0331 sighed but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” TK-1959 said. “About 1042. It must hurt.”

“Are you even supposed to be talking to me?”

TK-1959 looked around the room. Most of the squad was busy either watching the fight or as a part of it. He was sure Hux knew he was over here, Hux seemed to notice everything. “Nobody said I couldn’t.”

SK-0331 sighed, turning away. But TK-1959 didn’t leave, instead he leaned against the wall and waited.

“You ever lose someone?” SK-0331 asked.

“I… don’t know,” TK-1959 admitted. “I assume so? Before the First Order found me. But not that I remember.”

“We’re Stormtroopers,” SK-0331 muttered. “We’re supposed to avoid attachments. At any moment any one of us can be asked to die for the First Order. It’s easier on us all if we’re not… attached. But it doesn’t work that way, does it?”

TK-1959 shrugged. He had no idea what to say.

“And now I have to deal with that mistake.”

“Are you sure it was a mistake?” TK-1959 asked in a small voice. “If somebody set you up to fail wouldn’t vengeance best be taken against whoever set you up?”

TK-1959 felt eyes on him and saw SK-0331 looking at him curiously. “How would you find that person, if you were me?”

TK-1959 glanced over at Hux. He had an idea who'd set them up but didn't want to voice it yet. But then he wasn't the only one who had such suspicions. “I’d let the captain find them,” he suggested. “Whoever set you up made him mad. Mad enough to keep you alive out of spite. Mad enough to give me a name in front of the commandant. I don’t think he’ll mind if you take your vengeance out from under him.”

“How do you know?”

TK-1959 grinned. “I’ve already stolen his kills and I’m still alive.”

They both watched as FN-2304 hooked his scythe around the crossbar of the swordspear and yanked, pulling the swordspear out of FR-2116’s hands. FN-2304 held his scythe over his head to celebrate only for FR-2116 to stride up and punch him in the face. FN-2304 called foul, especially as Hux appeared to allow it. FR-2116 demanded to know if that meant he’d won and the battle turned into an ordinary fistfight. Now Hux stepped in, snarling at both combatants until they handed over their neural amplifiers. Then he told the two troopers they could continue their fistfight as they saw fit. That fight lasted a few token punches until both troopers found the next round of combat much more interesting than their own.

TT-1098 and JN-1301 stepped up next and both summoned blood red lightsabres. Hux stopped them and made them play a round of TIE-Y-X to determine who wielded the lightsabre and who thought of something more inventive. JN-1301 won the round and TT-1098 summoned the chain flail.

“I’ll think about it,” SK-0331 allowed.

“Do that,” TK-1959 said. 

They watched this next fight from the wall until TT-1098 managed to wrap the chains of the flail around the blade of the lightsabre and yanked it out of JN-1301’s hands. JN-1301 conceded and that match ended.

“TK-1959 and RX-3081,” Hux called.

SK-0331 nodded and TK-1959 got to his feet, ready to take the neural amplifier. He already knew what weapon he wanted to try.

A curve-bladed sword.


	5. Praxis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're not stormtroopers anymore.

It took a few weeks but finally a rhythm developed. Simulator training every other day. Tailored lessons taken under Individual Duties. Enforced downtime for half of every third day. Every other day it seemed fewer and fewer Stormtroopers arrived for simulator training as they washed out one by one, returning to their previous cadres and squads.

TK-1959 and FN-2304 finally got caught with their cracked datapads. TK-1959 expected punishment, manual labor in the ice caves on Ilum or something equally unfortunate. Instead they both found their lessons changed, courses on battlefield control, logistics, and squad command added to their Individual Duties. TK-1959 found he had both a talent and a fondness for logistics. He found the movement of materials and discretely acquired funds into the First Order to be a fascinating exercise of subterfuge and social engineering. Ilum as a base of operations made sense, the planet would provide the First Order with enough fresh kyber to supply an Empire’s fleet for millennia.

Each trooper had their own unique training during Individual Duties and they’d never experienced anything like it before as Stormtroopers. Evening rations always had something new to discuss and those discussions always led to something exciting.

TT-1098 opened up about her failed attempt to get into the TIE program, something about her inability to fly under heavy fire, and not long after her own lessons involved flight simulator time and a shuttle qual. FN-2304 and RX-3081 admitted they were both testing well in squad command lessons and then they found their lessons overlapping as both troopers pitted their simulated squads against each other instead of having to fight the AI. JN-1301 admitted her own interest in ridiculously large weapons and then she found herself training and qualling with an explosives team.

SK-0331 took his time to mourn and soon joined the squad properly. The first step came when he admitted his own desire to learn melee weapons that weren’t the Z6 and didn’t involve losing his dignity again.

They weren’t traditional Stormtroopers. All the 'real' Stormtroopers went back to being Stormtroopers. Only the 'broken' ones remained, all eight of them.

Now those who remained were ruined for a normal squad. If ever this squad were dissolved they’d all be scheduled for Reconditioning before the end of a single cycle.

But TK-1959 wasn’t worried. His own lessons had just been changed. Instead of analyzing First Order supply lines, Hux had him studying probe data from an uninhabited planet, scouting some old ruins and picking out nearby landing sites.

Their first mission would be soon and he was excited.

*****

Today the remaining eight troopers collected in Simulation Room 23. It wasn’t their regularly scheduled simulator day and TK-1959 vibrated with excitement. He knew what this was all about. He’d mapped out the landing zones, the ancient ruins, everything.

Like every day in Room 23, Captain Hux quieted down his squad and took the floor like he would give a speech. The neural amplifier behind his ear implied this might be an intense lesson but the second amplifier was nowhere to be seen.

Captain Hux raised his hands and a holographic display much like a console built on air appeared before him. He tapped a few controls and an image of the very planet TK-1959 had been analyzing appeared before them all.

“This is Praxis,” Hux said. “It lies 1.4 parsecs inside Chiss space.”

TK-1959 did not know that. He tried to hide his shock but the sudden whispers all around him disguised him well.

“It is uninhabited,” Hux continued. “The system has not yet been colonized by the Ascendency nor is the system heavily patrolled. The Supreme Leader has found something he wants on this planet and our first mission will be to acquire it.”

“From inside Chiss space?” TK-1959 asked.

“I figured we were expendable but I didn’t know we were  **that** expendable,” RX-3081 said with a snort.

“I do not intend to be expended,” Hux said. “Traditional Stormtrooper command does not know about this mission. Normally the Supreme Leader would send in his own… unique mercenaries.” Hux’s face twisted in disgust at the mention of mercenaries. "That is not an option at this time. We have been commanded to complete the mission instead."

“Why?” SK-0331 asked.

“My own contacts within the Chiss have informed me these particular mercenaries are not welcome inside Chiss space without expressed permission.”

“He can’t get them permission for this mission?” RX-3081 demanded.

“These mercenaries have been granted the right to enter Chiss space before," Hux allowed. "For a rescue mission. The plan is to use this previous allowance to argue in favor of gaining permission again.

“This is a delicate circumstance,” Hux continued. “The First Order is taking advantage of Chiss honor and that is not a slight they will overlook. Therefore, our presence on this planet cannot look deliberate.”

He gestured at the globe of the planet and it expanded into a projection map. Hux pointed out the ruin in the upper corner and next to it the various landing sites TK-1959 had picked out.

Then he pointed to the opposite end of the map across what must be hundreds of kilometers. “Our crash site is here,” he said, pointing to the far end. “The crash will be as realistic as possible. The emergency beacon will be activated and we will leave a visible trail as though hoping for rescue. From there we will have approximately three weeks to hike our way to the ruin and extract the artifacts the Supreme Leader has demanded.”

“Crash?!” SK-0331 shouted.

“Hike?” TT-1098 demanded.

“Three weeks?!” JN-1301 shrieked.

“And if we don’t make the pickup in three weeks?” TK-1959 asked. “Or if our mercenaries never show up?”

“My orders are to sit tight and to give our mercenaries more time,” Hux said. “As much time as is necessary for our representatives to navigate Chiss politics. However I did not accept this mission without making arrangements for contingencies. We will not stay on Praxis longer than necessary.”

“Do you trust these contingency arrangements?” RX-3081 asked.

“With your lives.”

“That’s not reassuring,” SK-0331 complained.

“It is more reassurance than you’d get in any other ground mission as a Stormtrooper,” Hux said. 

“He’s right,” RX-3081 agreed. “In any other squad we get in, we do the job. That’s it. Getting out isn’t always an option. The fact that we have access to a contingency plan is… unnerving. What are we picking up that’s so important?”

“Religious artifacts,” Hux sneered. He was clearly less than pleased with the goal of their mission.

TK-1959 looked at the map. He’d chosen landing sites a few short klicks away from the ruins. On the scale of the map as it was now… “That’s a long hike,” he realized.

“That’s why we have three weeks,” Hux said. “We leave in two days. Today I expect you’ll all need a crash course in wilderness survival.” He summoned a holographic object to his hand and held it up for all to see it. “This is the most important book in any survival kit.”

TK-1959 gaped. It was a… book. A holographic book to be sure but still… He’d always used datapads, books printed on flimsii seemed so pointlessly heavy and there was no way to leave footnotes or preserve his spot or highlight important passages. But he looked at the title and he had to agree, it was an important book.

_ A Stormtrooper’s Primer to Wilderness Survival _ by General Brendol Hux, 3rd edition

“I think we’ve all read it,” JN-1301 said.

Hux looked affronted. “Wait, you’ve  **read** this thing?”

“It’s required level 8 reading in the cadres,” TK-1959 said.

Hux’s affronted look turned to one of deep insult. “I want all of you to purge that nonsense from your heads right now,” he ordered. He shook his head in disbelief. “They’ve  **read** the thing, who reads this drivel?”

Confusion rippled through the ranks. First it was the most important book and now they weren’t supposed to read it?

Hux held up the book again. “This book, should you decide to read it, will tell you all about how to set up a command post, how to ration the food and water you brought with you, how to defend a fortification, how to survive in a comfortable temperate climate with ready access to technology, and how to wait for rescue! None of that is applicable to surviving in wilderness.”

“Then why is it important?” SK-0331 demanded.

Hux opened the book and flipped through the pages, letting the flimsii rustle. The flimsii seemed thinner than the type used for practice targets and there was a lot of it. He reached in and tore out a holographic piece, holding the page before him. “This is kindling when you need a fire,” Hux said. He crumpled it up and stuffed it into his own uniform jacket. “When crumpled up and stuffed inside your armor it makes for decent insulation.” He pulled out the sheet and the hologram unfolded itself back to perfection. “Most importantly, this is your best and safest source of latrine paper!”

A smattering of nervous giggles spread through the squad until they realized what he’d said. Latrines? They would be using latrines?

“Unlike what this book assumes, you will have **no** access to field refreshers or sonic bidets on this mission,” Hux threatened. “You will be digging holes and using latrine paper to wipe your own asses! I guarantee you, you will want to use this book over anything else you might find in the field no matter how soft it looks.”

“Experience?” TT-1098 asked, smirking.

Hux looked at RX-3081 who blushed and looked away. He purred a distinct invitation and his pupils dilated which only caused RX-3081 to blush harder. 

“Planetary survival training in the RX cadre,” Hux allowed. “Our field refreshers broke down. Some of the other cadets thought it was a good idea to use leaves to wipe themselves.”

RX-3081 squirmed as the other troopers all turned their attention to him.

“I seem to recall telling you those leaves smelled like pain,” Hux said, his voice carefully deadpanned despite his shining black eyes.

“How long did the burning last?” TT-1098 asked.

RX-3081 whimpered.

“Daysss…” Hux hissed, the purr rumbling forth.

“I have a bad feeling about this whole thing,” SK-0331 said.

“I think we all do,” FN-2304 admitted.

TK-1959 had to agree. There was no way he or any of them were going to be able to carry enough food for three weeks. And water was going to be a problem for all of them. Latrines meant spades to carry and their weapons and armor and supplies and…

This was going to be a nightmare.

*****

This was a nightmare.

The Lambda shuttle shuddered around them all. TT-1098 manned the flight controls alone, fighting to keep the Lambda level with one repulsor shorted, all engines blown, and the wings tucked up for reentry. The atmosphere of Praxis buffeted the Lambda. Bright red and white flashes strobed through the ship from the cockpit transparisteel, the hot plasma of atmosphere threatening to burn them all to ash.

The squad sat in the main hold of the Lambda, everyone strapped into six point crash harnesses. Captain Hux, on the other hand, remained standing in the corridor between the flight control and the main hold, shouting encouragement in both directions.

TK-1959 held onto the straps of his harness and fought not to scream. He had never experienced a crash sim before, this was his first taste and he did not like it at all. Each jolt wrenched whimpers from the back as the stabilizers strained under the forces of reentry, the wings rattling in their tucked positions.

“You’re all doing great,” Hux shouted over the screaming din of shearing metal. “Try to roll 3 degrees left!”

“I can’t,” TT-1098 shouted. “I’ve lost the port repulsor. We’re in freefall! I need the wings!”

“They’ll sheer off. Reroute power to the repulsor through secondary systems.”

“No response from secondary power couplings.”

“Kriff,” Hux swore. “I’ll try and cross circuit the primary cower couplings to the secondary systems, how long until we clear the ionosphere?”

“Another 3 minutes.”

“Do not open the wings until I give the order.” Hux tore open a panel and shoved his arms inside. He pulled out wires, splicing and rewiring as the ship hurtled down in an uncontrolled descent.

A highly convincing mockup of a crash was quickly becoming an ordinary crash.

“I’ve got power back!” TT-1098 shouted.

Hux pulled his arms out of the innards of the ship. “Status!”

“Sensors still dark,” TT-1098 reported. “Starboard repulsor blown, port operating at 45%. Engines are gone. Heat shields holding. Angle of entry is 21 degrees.”

“Try to bring the nose up to 27 degrees.”

“Trying.” An alarm blared. “Sir we’re about to lose the inertial damper!”

Hux threw himself into the copilot’s chair and clamped his harness over his chest. The alarm changed tone but it wasn’t necessary as suddenly everything in the transport shifted and squeezed. Strangled screams wrenched free from terrified stormtroopers as the full g-forces of reentry landed on every single person inside the shuttle.

“Five and a half g,” Hux growled, reading the panel in front of him. He snorted and snarled with even that effort. “We’re fine. G-forces level.”

“Have to…” TT-1098 gripped the control panel before her, unable to lift her arms against the force of acceleration.

Screams turned to whimpers in the main hold as troopers held on for dear life. Someone in the back began to pray, their words almost lost in the roaring din of their tortured ship.

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. I am one with the--”

A strange double jolt brought prayer to a halt among a new round of screams. “We're dropped subsonic,” Hux called. "Deploy the wings."

G-forces eased off and TT-1098 grabbed at the controls. A metallic whir vibrated through the ship, a whole new rumble as the wings of the Lambda opened. “Wings deployed. I still have the port repulsor.”

“Do we have sensors?” Hux demanded.

“Partial.”

“Try and set us down in grid E-7A.”

“Yes sir.”

TK-1959 felt faint in his harness. The acceleration pressure eased and the roar of the tortured ship lessened to a rushing sound. He could feel the wings of the Lambda attaining some measure of lift, some measure of control over their otherwise uncontrolled descent. The ship weaved side to side, snaking through the air to shed speed.

“Keep the nose up,” Hux purred. “You’re doing so well.”

“Don’t usually crash,” TT-1098 growled.

“Any landing you can walk away from.”

TT-1098 gripped the controls with white-knuckled hands. She fought as the Lambda’s wings pulled the ship one direction while the one working repulsor dragged it another with the vector to grid E-7A somewhere in the middle. The surface of Praxis approached, rocks and shrubs and the cold hard ground rushing up to meet them.

“Blow the wings,” Hux ordered. “Pull the nose up.”

TT-1098 pounded a red button and pulled the control sticks. Small jolts shuddered through the ship as the Lambda reared like a drunken animal. Breakaway charges blew the explosive bolts and the wings careened off behind them.

The Lambda slammed into the ground belly first and skidded. Harnesses held the squad to their seats as the crash landing tried to toss everything around the hold. Fresh screams sounded almost tired as the ship slid to a stop.

“Everyone all right?” Hux called.

“Kriff off,” SK-0331 growled. “We just crashed!”

“That’s the point,” RX-3081 crowed. “We’re down and we are  **alive** !” He popped his harness and jumped to his feet, nearly screaming in twisted glee.

TK-1959 felt the weight of what just happened fall on him. He’d never crashed before. This was his first time. He felt woozy...

“Who’s not okay?” Hux called.

“Ow,” TT-1098 answered, one hand raised.

“Sir I…” TK-1959 didn’t manage to say anything else as his vision tunneled.

JN-1301 slapped him awake. “No passing out, 1959, you hear me? We need to get out of the ship first.” She released his harness and TK-1959 nearly slid onto the floor. He felt arms around him and GR-8758 hoisted him over his shoulder.

Outside was worse, so much worse. Their ship was once a beautiful old Imperial Lambda-class T-4a shuttle with a body of sleek carbon fiber and durasteel that gleamed in that subtle way denoting a well-maintained ship. Now…

The three wings were gone, blown off and crashed somewhere uprange. The emergency hatches opened into the flanks like wounds. The engines were shredded, the charges JN-1301 and SK-0331 planted did their jobs perhaps a little too well. The starboard repulsors weren’t even attached anymore, they were completely gone. But the worst part of it was the color.

The gleam was gone. Instead a charred black left long streaks of dark soot and shimmery blue and burnt red etched into the composite metal where plasma scorched the hull. Entire plates were missing, ablated off in the uncontrolled entry. Holes the size of his fist littered the hull, burning all the way through to the inner hull which had cracked under the heat pressure.

TK-1959 felt GR-8758 drop him on the ground and the world went dark in a swirl of scorch marks and imagined flames.

*****

He came to amidst the stab of sunlight in his eyes. A rush of sounds echoed in his ears, animal sounds and footsteps and his squad mulling about and the strange rise and fall of air that never stopped moving. Smells both strange and familiar assaulted him, burnt metal and scorched carbon fiber almost lost underneath plants and freshness and dust and dirt. A painfully blue sky leered down at him, a clear blue he’d never seen before.

TK-1959 ached all over. His head throbbed in a dull headache and he shivered in his armor despite not feeling cold. He sat up and reached up to pull his helmet off. Armored hands touched his bare face and wait, where was his helmet? 

Oh. Right next to him. What happened?

He shuddered as the phantom images slowly leaked back into his consciousness. The taste of his own fear as he sat strapped in the hold. The smell of sparking wires as Captain Hux shoved his arms into the ship’s innards. TT-1098 screaming at the controls. The bright reds and oranges and terrible white hot plasma streaking past the cockpit viewports as their beautiful, innocent, loyal Lambda shuttle screamed through atmosphere, burning like a meteor.

TK-1959 shook his head. He was getting sentimental and this was no time or place for such things. He was a Stormtrooper. More than that, he had a job to do.

This was no accident. This was a planned crash. The Lambda shuttle wasn’t theirs, it had been slated for decommissioning. Captain Hux successfully had it transferred to his control for this mission with the understanding that it would still be decommissioned upon return. JN-1301 and SK-0331 planted the charges inside the sublight engines and rigged them so they’d blow when and only when TT-1098 pressed the button. Their entire trajectory through the atmosphere was meticulously planned by Captain Hux himself.

They didn’t have a pilot, they had TT-1098. She was trained as a pilot, qualled as a shuttle pilot, she was a pilot in all but name. Hux trusted her to bring the Lambda down safely while wrecking it enough for plausible deniability.

This was all part of the mission.

TK-1959 thought back to the briefing before the mission.

Step one, crash. He guessed that was a success, the shuttle lay wrecked in the rocks and sand at the end of a long scrape in the desert floor. Scrub plants burned in little spots of fire where sparks from the crash scattered. A line of mountains loomed in the distance, their foothills not more than a dozen kilometers away. He knew those mountains rose to a plateau with the temple ruins perched somewhere on the top.

Step two, take stock of what they had. A Lambda shuttle normally carried enough emergency supplies to last two months for eight people but those supplies assumed the shuttle was fully stocked and the water recycler remained operational. They had neither such option, meaning they’d have to carry their water with them and there would be decisions to make about food. Each of them carried canteens and one collapsible water storage cube that could be strapped to their backs. The drone data showed several small lakes on the plateau, all they had to do was get there.

Step three, get there. This seemed like the hardest part, hiking 200 kilometers in rough uncivilized terrain over less than three weeks; the schedule Captain Hux drew up for them had them hiking to the temple in two weeks and spending seven whole days exploring and cataloging and waiting and whatever else he had planned.

Step four, rescue. These mercenaries were still an unknown. Hux had said the Supreme Leader arranged this and that these mercenaries had earned the Supreme Leader’s trust. TK-1959 didn’t want to think treasonous thoughts by doubting the Supreme Leader but mercenaries? Mercenaries who needed the First Order to argue politics on their behalf? Why involve them at all? Why not just send a First Order ship to rescue them?

As for who these mercenaries were, Captain Hux had said they were a group of Force sensitives who called themselves the Knights of Ren. They were led by a man named Ren, a blind man covered in scars who hid his face behind a blank durasteel mask. The rest of them were all named Ren as well but he didn’t have much information about them.

TK-1959 picked up his helmet and slid it over his head. The smells of the desert faded under his mask’s recirculated air and he stood up.

The rest of his squad needed him on his feet if they were going to get this mission underway.


	6. The Trial of Endurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spiders. There are spiders.

TK-1959 turned to look back at the Lambda one last time.

The wreckage of the ship languished like a dead animal within the furrow of its own violent crash. The carcass lay stripped down to its bones, sheets of durasteel and carbon composite fastened into sledges meant to drag supplies across the desert floor. Her hold lay empty, all possible water purified and then transferred to the water storage cubes they each carried slung across their backs. Each trooper carried enough food for two weeks, three if they rationed it. In addition they were all encouraged to fashion whatever tools they thought they might need from the wreckage itself.

Next to the wreckage TK-1959 could make out the dark pattern on the ground, durasteel and burned rocks arranged in a simple arrow pattern indicating their direction of travel. At the point of that arrow Captain Hux had left the helmet of his own armor.

Hux seemed to regret that decision now given the bright red spots already forming on his cheeks and the constant effort spent trying to shield his eyes from sunlight.

Three weeks.

They had three weeks of this.

TK-1959 turned away from the Lambda and followed his squad over a small ridge. The mountains rose before them, a day’s journey distant. From there the plateau and then the ruins.

They had a mission to do.

*****

This was the most boring mission ever.

They camped at the base of the foothills. The climb up the mountains would wait for tomorrow then the walk across the plateau.

Then the ruins.

Unfortunately, as soon as the novelty of wind and sand and sunlight wore off, the hike through the desert was quite monotonous. The only interesting thing had been the sudden shock when Captain Hux pulled his pistol without warning and shot into the desert. The seemingly random act of violence made more sense when he ventured off and returned with the plasma-burned remains of a lizard nearly half a meter long.

Now they all sat within the light of the communal fire as the stars of the galaxy whirled overhead. Praxis’s moons burned in the sky, the large pale one rolling along the western horizon and smaller red one chasing the sun where it had set in the north. Hux threaded the lizard onto a stick and dangled it over the fire while the rest of his squad ate their ration bars.

“We should set up some sort of rotation,” RX-3081 said.

“Rotation of what?” SK-0331 asked.

“I dunno, stories. Talking. Singing. Something.”

“Stories about what?” FN-2304 asked, deadpanned. “Hi, I’m a Stormtrooper, I was trained to shoot things, same as you! What do we have to talk about?”

“I’m sure you’re all inventive in your own ways,” Hux allowed. He pulled his lizard from the fire and blew out the little patches of flame that licked at the curled scales. “But I understand. First Order training is not conducive to storytelling.”

“What about places we’ve been?” JN-1301 asked. “I’m sure we haven’t all spent all our lives on ships.”

“I don’t remember anything other than ships,” TK-1959 admitted. "Nothing clear, anyway."

Hux bit down on the lizard’s charred skull. It crunched in his mouth, bones shattering. He spat the tiny skull on the ground, wiping bone shards from his tongue.

“We have rations we can spare,” TT-1098 offered.

Hux glared but didn’t answer. Instead he tore into the spine of the lizard, pulling the little morsels of meat from the skeleton.

“He won’t eat these,” RX-3081 said, raising his own half-eaten ration bar. “I agree with his reasons.”

Hux growled as he tore the tail of the lizard off, crunching all the little bones as he ate the tail in chunks. He glared at RX-3081 while doing so, not quite a threat. It seemed worse than a mere threat. An accusation...

There was a story there and TK-1959 wasn’t sure he wanted to know it. Cadets could be cruel to each other when they had reason. He wondered if one of those cruelties involved force-feeding Hux food he couldn’t digest and laughing at the pain it caused.

He shook his head to try and dislodge the image. It was easy enough, the Captain Hux he knew was too proud, too monstrous, and far too strong to allow such indignities now. What happened before didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was now and now Hux led them all through an uncharted wilderness on an uninhabited planet to raid a ruined temple on the orders of their Supreme Leader.

TK-1959 finished his own rations and looked up to watch the stars. Somewhere up there the Star Destroyer  _ Locutor _ would have noticed by now that they hadn’t made their scheduled check-in. After two missed check-ins an ion trace would determine they went off course near the border with Chiss space. 

From there the news would make its way up the chain of command. That news would branch, following both official and unofficial channels. Whether or not the  _ Locutor _ chose to act, contingencies would activate.

Captain Hux had already made sure of it.

*****

TK-1959 took off his helmet as they entered the canyon.

The foothills stretched below and around them, gentle swells that had nothing to do with the craggy basaltic cliffs before them. None of them wanted to climb the sheer rock face to reach the top of the plateau so instead they’d spent an extra half day walking the ridge along the foothills looking for an easier way up. Escarpments were few and tended to be short and TK-1959 idly wondered what geological process could have uplifted such a strange and severe formation.

The canyon had been a blessing. Shade, for one. Stormtrooper armor was not built for hiking in the desert for days on end. The potentiality of the next step in their journey, for another. Getting to the top of the plateau would mean an end to this desert wandering and the beginning of their plateau wandering. 

But as soon as TK-1959 had his helmet off he screamed. “Everybody STOP!” he shrieked.

The sound echoed through the canyon, bouncing along the walls. Rustling sounds dripped down the rock walls in ominous stretches that he did not want to see. But he did. He couldn’t not.

With his helmet on the canyon appeared fine. It seemed completely normal. Empty. Bare rock with a trickle of stream at the base. Not even any plants to break the stark emptiness of the canyon.

But as soon as he took his helmet off he could see the shining death that filled the canyon.

Strings and strands of webbing stretched across the canyon in vast sheets that caught what little light bounced down to the canyon floor.

“What is it?” Hux called, sounding almost confused. He looked around for the threat, eyes lingering on the canyon walls.

TK-1959 couldn't understand that confusion at all. Hux didn’t have his helmet, he’d left it back at the crash site! He was less than one step from blundering directly into the first sheet of web! Of course he saw it. Right?

“1959, explain yourself,” Hux ordered. “Or we forge on.”

“You don’t see it?” TK-1959 asked. “Tell me you see it!”

“See what?” RX-3081 asked. He took his own helmet off. “Holy kriff! Hux, don't move!”

Hux went still, hissing low under his breath. Or maybe that hiss was something else.

One by one Stormtroopers removed their helmets and one by one they screamed, adding their own echoes to the canyon.

TK-1959 realized with dawning horror that the hissing wasn’t coming from Hux at all. Not as two, three, a dozen other creatures hissed from inside that canyon.

“Captain, step back,” TK-1959 said, shuddering in terror. It didn’t even dawn on him that he was giving orders to his commanding officer. “Three steps back. I beg you, do not reach forward, do not turn around, do not even look forward. Step back.”

Hux took three steps back. From there he knelt down, picked up a fistful of sand, and tossed it ahead of him. The sand grains paused in midair as they impacted the webbing sheet. “Ah,” Hux said, as though this was normal.

Something rattled above them and the spider climbed out of its hole. It wiggled its pedipalps then reached below itself to the spinnerets.

“Run,” Hux said. “Now!”

TK-1959 didn’t need to be told twice, bolting back to the safety of sunlight. Once he was safe he turned to watch for the others, pulling them one by one out of the canyon.

TT-1098 fell backward as she tried to scramble away. She’d been near the front and she wasn’t moving fast enough. “1098!” TK-1959 shouted.

Hux turned and ran back for her even as the spider climbed onto its web sheet, still manipulating its spinnerets with its hindmost legs.

“Let’s go!” RX-3081 screamed. “Get out of there!”

Hux grabbed TT-1098 and all but threw her to her feet.

The spider tossed out long strands of death that spat onto the ground around them, trying to pen them in.

Hux shoved her out of the way, launching TT-1098 into a run. But he fell forward as he tried to get away, caught on the strands he couldn't see. The spider tossed out more web traps, pinning Hux to the ground as he screamed for them all to get to safety.

The spider jumped, landing on the ground at Hux’s feet. It crawled up him, pulling him off the ground as it began to wrap him. He tried to pull himself away, arms outstretched as the spider's webs wrapped his legs, torso, neck... It rolled him over and Hux grabbed a fistful of dirt, flinging it in the spider’s eyes. It screamed, a high-pitched hiss, as it held him down. Its fangs twitched, chewing at the air to begin the venom flow, and it struck.

The spider's fangs impacted with a dull clunk as it tried to bite his chest. It continued its scream as it struck again and again, trying to bite though the officer’s breastplate to get at the chest beneath. It reared up and Hux slid his hands into his sleeves. When he pulled his hands out each one held a knife and he sliced across the spider, catching it between the head and the abdomen.

The spider stopped, twitched, and Hux sliced again. This time the head fell off with a wet plop and the body curled in on itself.

It was over. It was dead.

Hux growled and took his knives to the webbing that wrapped most of his body. He snorted and growled as his knife work grew more erratic, more frustrated as webs kept sticking back together after he sliced them. He finally tore himself off the ground with a roar of triumph.

Then he turned on his own squad, eyes shining green in the darkness of the canyon. He gestured with one knife at them all, shaking with fear, fury, adrenaline, whatever it was. “You… are all allowed… to kill something... that’s trying to eat me… you do realize that…”

Stormtroopers looked up, down, at their feet, into darkness, anywhere but at their commander. It hadn’t occurred to them to interfere. 

“You… are all… fully arrrrmed Ssstormtrooperrrsss,” Hux growled, still shaking even as he lost command of his voice. “You arrre not rrrationing plasssma yet.”

“Yes Sir.” RX-3081 said it first. A few other brave souls offered those same two words. Eventually all of them acquiesced.

Hux growled as he turned back to the canyon. He hissed, or TK-1959 deeply hoped that was him hissing. He strode back to the spider and took his knives to it, separating all eight legs from the body. He bunched the legs into two bundles of four and drew those bundles along the exposed spinnerets, creating two bound cords of spider legs.

Hux then stuck the bundles of legs to his back, attaching the fresh webbing to the multitude of sticky sheets that still trailed from his armor and limbs. He walked out of the canyon.

“We are dessscending out of the foothillsss for tonight,” he ordered. “And you arrre all keeping watch.”

“Yes Sir.” This time the chorus was more coherent.

TK-1959 shuddered as he looked back into the canyon before they descended. The spider’s legless body was not left alone for long, other spiders already scavenging the corpse.

*****

TK-1959 looked at the hairy disembodied spider legs curled around the fire and shuddered. This was not how today was supposed to go.

No day should go like this. Captain Hux sat in the firelight in his skivvies, his spots pale against even paler skin. His feet were bare, the knives strapped to every limb visible in the open. He ran his hands through his oily hair as he combed pale gray silk strands from it. Meanwhile RX-3081 examined his armor and SK-0331 grumbled about having to use bits of shrub to try and peel the spider silk from Hux’s clothes.

“Why me?” SK-0331 complained.

“You’re tall enough,” Hux warned. “If you can’t get the silk off I’ll wear your clothes instead and you can wear mine.”

SK-0331 went back to grumbling but redoubled his efforts.

“You really couldn’t see the spider webs?” TK-1959 asked.

“I could not,” Hux admitted. 

“Those night-eyes of yours  **do** have drawbacks,” RX-3081 realized. “I thought you’d have learned to compensate for most of it by now.” He ran an armored thumb over the new dents in Hux’s breastplate. The spider’s bite had force but couldn’t pierce armor.

“I thought I had,” Hux said. “How often do we run into giant spider webs?”

“Never and I hope we never do again,” TT-1098 said trembling. She faced where the Lambda’s corpse lay, her back to the plateau where the spiders lurked.

“You survived,” Hux praised. “TK-1959 raised the alarm and we managed to get everyone out of danger. Thank you for that, otherwise we all would have run headlong into that trap.”

TK-1959 blushed and looked down. “I didn’t…”

“You did well,” Hux praised. “Because of you everyone was made aware of the situation before it escalated. It gave them all the chance to escape.”

“You still were…”

Hux growled then purred as he pulled a particularly long and frustrating strand of silk from his head. He tossed it into the fire then scratched at his scalp, purring at the sensation. “This was an inconvenience, nothing more. Now we need to find a new way up.” He pulled his hands out of his hair and shook his head. He pulled a knife from an arm sheathe and prodded one spider leg nearest the fire. He used the knife to slide it away from the heat. He wrapped his hand in a cloth and picked up the leg. He slid the knife into the leg and cracked the exoskeleton. With leverage he peeled the exoskeleton apart like peeling a crab leg.

TK-1959 closed his eyes and didn’t look. Little lizards were one thing, this wasn’t even a vertebrate. It was bad enough that he could hear the biting and the swallowing and the eating and the purring and the sucking of juices out of that giant furry exoskeleton.

“Although this alone might make it worth it,” Hux purred.

TK-1959 refused to open his eyes. He refused to look.

“If any spiders attempt to ambush our camp tonight I’m taking their legs too. Maybe there will be more on the plateau.”

TK-1959 shook his head. He was not interested in the slightest.

*****

The next few days were thankfully much less exciting.

The durasteel sledges had to stay in the desert below. Instead packs grew heavier as each Stormtrooper carried their armor, weapons, helms, gear, water, rations, so many things. 

JN-1301 was the first to leave her helmet at a camp. There would be no going back for it. It was lost to them, left behind like a trail marker.

They spent another day on the foothill ridge until they found a shallow escarpment that seemed to have been artificially laid. It felt almost like a ramp leading them up onto the plateau, the remains of a pilgrim’s road perhaps. They made the plateau on the fourth night since crash landing and stood overlooking the next hundred kilometers of odd patchwork terrain.

Desert still stretched below them but strange scraggly trees twisted upwards. Spiders the size of hands and heads lurked in these trees, the remains of their kills dangling in wrapped bundles of dull feathers. Webs draped where leaves should have been, blowing gently in the otherwise pleasant warm breeze.

Beyond the trees the desert seemed to fade into something dark and fetid and humid and TK-1959 itched just looking that far. Pools of water lurked in those swamps, or he hoped it was water. They couldn’t drink it if it wasn’t water.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to drink it if it was.

From there the terrain grew too distant to truly understand. Regardless, somewhere off in the distance there were ruins that needed to be explored and looted.

“Which way from here?” RX-3081 asked.

Hux pulled his datapad from his pack. The device was cracked from the incident in the canyon but the three month battery still held its charge. He pulled up the map of Praxis, zoomed in on the canyon they’d passed, followed the escarpment up the foothills, then seemed to turn in circles. Finally it pointed a direction. “That way,” he said.

“How can you be sure?” SK-0331 demanded.

“Reactor is that way,” Hux said, pointing a different direction.

“What reactor?” TT-1098 demanded. “I don’t feel one. Can we use it?”

“Sorry, habit. North is that way.”

“Again, how can you be sure?” SK-0331 demanded. “How is ‘north’ the same as a reactor?!”

“Praxis has a strong magnetic field,” TK-1959 realized. “Wait, you can feel it? How?”

“It’s not weird,” TT-1098 snapped. “Wait, north feels like a reactor to you?”

“What does it feel like to you?” Hux asked.

“Like that way.” TT-1098 pointed vaguely north. “But only if I’m not thinking about it, otherwise I lose the feeling. A reactor feels more like something.”

“So it’s not a monster thing,” GR-8758 realized. “It’s a pilot thing.”

JN-1301 threw her hands up and walked off. “Sure, fine,” she shouted. “This mission is weird, Captain, and so are you.”

Hux ignored her, instead holding the datapad so TT-1098 could get a good look at it. They conferred over the map and both agreed that north was indeed in the vague direction they both pointed, that the ruins were ‘that way’, that there should be a ring of overgrown jungle around the ruins, and that people who weren’t trained as pilots were weird.

TK-1959 watched in growing exasperation. He had hoped there might be some signal or probe droid transmitting from the ruins that Hux used as a beacon. Instead all they had was this odd pilot’s-sense that enabled both Hux and TT-1098 to feel which direction North was.

TK-1959 was wrong. This mission wasn’t boring at all. It was terrifying.

And they still had two and a half weeks until rescue.


	7. The Trial of Cunning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jedi and Sith temples often have trials around and within them to test the skill and worthiness of incoming pilgrims. 'Kill it with fire' was not supposed to be a valid tactic but, hey, whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Growth! Action! Leeches! Spiders!
> 
> This chapter and the next constitute a Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for Poison/Venom. The entire prompt will be posted to tumblr when completed.

TK-1959 wrinkled his nose at the pale brown water he poured through the filter. Clear water dripped through that filter into a water storage cube. Once it was full SK-0331 would pick it up and move it to the carefully managed fire. RX-3081 managed that fire and the cube full of boiling water surrounded by coals. Once the fresh cube arrived RX-3081 would move the boiling cube out of the fire so SK-0331 could place the fresh cube in.

Boiling hot cubes sat with TT-1098 until cool enough to touch then their caps were screwed on.

After filtering and boiling this water should be safe to drink. As it were, this was their only water source for another two weeks.

TK-1959 still didn’t like it. He saw where that water came from. There were plants and little bugs and eyes and long swimming slimy things and some large creature moving under the surface.

That creature breached the surface, viscous brown water cascading off of its spotted skin as it hissed and murred and made all manner of inhuman noises.

“You know, we have to drink this,” RX-3081 called. “You mind waiting until we’re done?”

“I don’t mind at all,” Hux purred.

Of course Captain Hux didn’t mind. He was the creature, his clothes and armor left on the muddy mossy bank. The water flushed his spots dark, hiding the fact that the constant sun exposure left the spots on his face dark and visible regardless of water. He stretched and purred, hands slowly clawing at the water, then sank back under.

GR-8758 sat on the bank with a wet sack, his own armor and shirt off. He sat waiting, only stopping to glare as TK-1959 disturbed the water. When he saw his prey in the water he’d snatch at it, driving his arm into the water and mud and nearly falling in with the effort. If his catch was successful he’d pull out a gray and white animal, silken skin and long back legs and broad throat with a peeping voice. The animal went into the sack and GR-8758 would flick the mud from his arm and settle down to wait again.

Troopers relaxed as the water cubes boiled. Three days hiking in the plateau had them leaving behind the dust and sand of the desert. Instead the terrain grew soft and wet, humidity curling up from the stinking ground under their feet. Scraggly leafless trees dotted the landscape, their ominous drape of drifting silk no less disturbing than it was the first time they all saw it. At night those trees contained tiny twinkling lights, the eyeshine of spiders the size of their helmets watching the newcomers.

The sun sank low on the northern horizon. Half their day had been spent on water collection and they still had at least a hundred kilometers left to go until the ruins. 

Hux breached the surface again, hissing and snarling. TK-1959 looked up and had to take a moment to process what he saw.

Something was attached to Hux’s chest. Something gross and slimy and Hux seemed to be fighting with it, trying to pull it off of him. It looked like a big black worm but it somehow stretched almost a meter long. Hux had both hands around the thing, trying to pull it off of him but the slimy nature made it difficult to hold on.

“Leech!” GR-8758 shouted. He pulled a folding knife from his belt and tossed it to Hux. Hux caught it, unfolded it, and sliced through the worm near where it bit his chest. He flung the worm onto the far bank and used the blade to pry the remaining mouth off of his skin. A round red spot remained where the leech had bit, blood flowing freely from the wound.

“Now I mind,” Hux allowed. He folded the blade, tossed it back to GR-8758, and ducked back under the water. He breached again near the edge, pulling himself up and out. He stood naked, streaked with mud and dotted with his own spots. “I don’t have any more, do I?” he asked, twisting and running his hands over his skin.

“That depends,” JN-1301 called. “How long are your spots?”

Hux’s reached around himself and ran his hands down his back. He found the leech and pulled, arching and writhing as he did. This one was shorter and fought less, popping off on its own. Hux threw it into the water, hissing as he did.

“This is why I’m fine with smelling like a Wookie’s ass,” RX-3081 said, refusing to watch.

TK-1959 had to agree. He preferred cleanliness and after a week in the wilderness he considered his own stench ‘offensive’. But bathing in a swamp full of leeches was not an alternative. Yet.

*****

TK-1959 didn’t remember where he’d left his helmet or even what day he’d lost it. But he knew now he wanted it. He envied those who still had it. They didn’t have to see the path before them.

Spiders.

Scraggly trees began to grow closer in as they approached what looked like the beginning of a forest. It should have been a hopeful sign, the ruins were surrounded by a ring of jungle and this might be the outskirts of that jungle. They’d certainly been walking long enough.

But hope was dashed by the spiders. Scraggly trees grown closer meant those hand-sized spiders could begin webbing multiple trees together into long lines of web. It formed an effective maze, cutting off side passages and causing unexpected dead ends. A diaphanous ceiling enclosed several of those dead ends, promising something terrible at those ends.

“I vote one of us leads from now on,” RX-3081 said. “Someone who can see what we’re walking into.”

“Is it that bad?” Hux asked.

“It looks like a maze,” TK-1959 said, shuddering. “A maze of spiderwebs. Maybe we can burn it?”

“We don’t have a droid for an aerial view,” Hux mused.

“I’m not sure a droid would see the webs,” TT-1098 allowed.

The sun climbed toward zenith as they paused to consult the datapad with their map. Hux and TT-1098 conferred, the both of them still in agreement of the direction of north and the ruins were ‘that way’. They considered the vague hope that there might be a way into the forest that wasn’t infested with spiders but that hope was dashed by basic logic. At no point on this plateau had they seen a lack of spiders. 

“I’m with 1959,” JN-1301 said. “Kill it with fire.”

Several other troopers nodded. Fire seemed like a good idea all around.

“I want to see how these webs react to fire first,” Hux said. He gestured in an uncaring direction. “Light one of those trees first.”

JN-1301 pulled out her firestarting gear and a few pages of flimsii. The ground was too wet on its own to support a fire but SK-0331 offered his helmet to hold the flame like a bowl. A few minutes later a grinning JN-1301 held 0331’s helmet like an offering as Stormtroopers found sticks and lit them like torches.

The webbing burned hot and fast, spiders screaming as they burned and twitched and fell out of the tree. The scraggly tree smoldered but didn’t burn, almost as though it was somehow still alive.

Without the webbing encasing it the tree didn’t look any less ominous. Instead of leaves it sported thorns as long as a man’s finger sticking out in random directions. The tree creaked, its limbs waving as though the wind moved it.

There was no wind to move anything.

“It’s still creepy,” RX-3081 observed.

“There is something **wrong** with this planet,” SK-0331 agreed.

“How much you wanna bet the center of all this wrongness is the old temple?” JN-1301 asked, still holding the helmet full of fire. She held it out as if asking for tithes and Stormtroopers obliged by breaking their torches and tossing the pieces into the fire.

“No bet,” TK-1959 said sadly. “With our luck that’s exactly what’s going on.”

“Hey hey, no cursing our luck here, 1959,” RX-3081 warned. “We’re all still alive. Hux hasn’t eaten anyone. The spiders haven’t eaten anyone either. We’re fine. You have to remember that. We’re fine. This is fine.”

TK-1959 nodded. This was fine. Even if he didn’t believe it he could lie to himself. This was fine.

JN-1301 took her helmet of fire back to Hux. “The web burns just fine,” she reported. “I say we burn it all.”

Hux nodded. “Proceed.”

TK-1959 stayed back and covered his ears at the sound of hundreds of tiny screams all merging into one. The screaming didn’t last long as the trees soon stood bare of webs, their long thorns reaching up and waving in a strange hypnotic dance.

“Excellent,” Hux praised. “1301, up here with me. If there are any more walls I’d like you available to burn them.”

“Yes sir,” JN-1301 said.

The two of them led the way toward the forest. Hux paused to pick up an errant spider, pulling its abdomen apart and eating the innards. It crunched and TK-1959 winced.

He had a bad feeling about this as the flames died down and tiny little glittering eyes watched from the shadows. If he allowed himself to consider it, he thought they might be insulted. But that was idle fantasy, spiders didn’t feel.

Did they?

No. No they did not. TK-1959 put the thought out of his mind and raced to keep up with the others.

He tried not to notice the spiders behind them as they rebuilt the walls.

This was fine.

*****

There was something wrong with this forest.

TK-1959 didn’t know a great deal of biology or botany. He took the required courses on planetary biomes and climates. From what he’d learned most trees were some variety of wood with bark and sometimes moss. They were stationary. They weren’t supposed to be covered in giant spines that moved of their own accord like the spider trees in the swamp. They weren’t supposed to drape themselves in great shimmering sheets of webs with tiny shining eyes watching from the shadows. They weren’t supposed to glow with faint blue and red lights from underneath solid cap-like canopies.

“Don’t touch anything that glows,” Hux warned. “They’re mushrooms. There’s no way to know what’s poisonous and what’s not.”

“Those are some gigantic mushrooms,” RX-3081 mused.

“Reminds me of Arkanis,” Hux allowed.

“There are mushrooms like this elsewhere?” SK-0331 asked.

“The fungal forests of Arkanis can be hundreds of meters high,” Hux remembered. “The only green on the entire planet is the lichens raised up on the forest caps. Those caps can grow so wide it leaves the forest floor in perpetual night.”

TK-1959 had never heard this tone of voice from his captain. He sounded almost… wistful?

“It never stops raining,” Hux continued. “You could go years without seeing a blue sky. When the Empire came they built on whatever mountains they could find. Sank their foundations to the bedrock. But even they didn’t dare change the mists or the gloom or the endless bogs. Now the New Republic tries to build dome cities to tame the darkness and…”

Hux sighed and the thrum of his purr invoked a strange sadness that made it hard to breathe.

“You’re Arkanan, aren’t you,” RX-3081 mused aloud.

“Half,” Hux allowed. “And even that’s debatable.”

“Either you are or you aren’t,” TT-1098 said.

Hux snorted. “Arkanis was colonized by humans. Arkanans aren't aliens, they're humans who allowed themselves to evolve. My humanity is a construct subject to the whims of politics. Am I human? Am I an evolved diaspora? Or has it been long enough that I can be called an alien?”

“Didn’t the Alderaanians allow themselves to evolve too?” SK-0331 asked.

“You studied,” Hux praised. “They did. But those waterbreathing pacifist fish-eaters were pretty. The Core Worlds are always willing to overlook little flaws like evolution when it results in something harmlessss and prrretty. I am neitherrr.”

SK-0331 snorted. “That’s for pfassking sure.”

“You’re certainly not harmless,” RX-3081 agreed.

“I’m glad you’re not harmless,” JN-1301 mused, looking around at the forest around them. The path looked open now but the waving sheets overhead drifted on nonexistent wind like something held them ready to drop.

TK-1959 silently agreed. He was glad Hux wasn’t harmless. Indeed he was a deadly monster, not just pretty but beautiful in a predatory sense with those spots and his eyes and the fluid way he moved and--

\--where had that thought some from? He felt his face heat in a blush. But nobody seemed to notice so he stayed quiet even if it felt like every shining spider eye focused on him.

Those shining eyes felt hungry.

TK-1959 shook the feeling from his mind. He was imagining things and needed to stop.

This was fine.

*****

They made camp in a small clearing. Stormtroopers ate their rations in silence as they all faced away from the fire to keep their eyes on the forest around them. Hux didn’t eat, instead he peered into the forest with eyes that glowed as bright as the spider eyes around them.

“Nobody’s sleeping tonight,” RX-3081 said. His tone allowed for no argument, it was a simple statement of fact.

“I’m not sure we should stop for the night then,” Hux said. “We can defend ourselves better if we’re on the move.”

“Let me refill the helmet,” JN-1301 said, transferring coals to SK-0331’s discarded helmet.

“The fire helmet **is** going into the next survival manual,” SK-0331 said. His tone also allowed for no argument, instead daring anyone to contradict him.

“We should write our own,” GR-8758 mused.

“Page one, you **are** allowed to shoot the thing that’s trying to eat your commanding officer,” RX-3081 said, hands raised as though he could see the words on a lecture screen.

TK-1959 snorted.

“The most important lesson so far on this mission,” Hux agreed, deadpanned.

TK-1959 clamped his hands over his mouth to keep from laughing. He couldn’t laugh at the situation no matter how much he needed to. No matter how ridiculous and terrifying this mission had been so far. No. He wouldn’t.

He didn’t. He ignored the feeling of eyes on him as it felt like a hundred shining eyes watched him from the shadows beyond the fire’s light.

TK-1959 stood up, brushed dirt from his armor, and shouldered his pack as the others all did the same.

This was fine.

They marched through the night, following a vague direction and the burning glow of JN-1301’s helm full of fire. The path remained oddly clear but if TK-1959 listened he thought he could hear the scuttling following them. That scuttling grew louder as the night wore on, every Stormtrooper staring straight ahead and refusing to look back as they all heard it too.

Only Hux continued to glance around them, above them, behind them.

TK-1959 wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Hux saw in the darkness. It was bad enough having to hear it, to feel it.

They were being followed.

The path they followed seemed to close, web on both sides and above them. Even the ground showed faint lines of iridescence that snapped when stepped on.

“You all have plasma,” Hux whispered, his voice so quiet yet so loud. “You all have multiple weapons.”

TK-1959 knew what he meant. All of them had their pistols, RX-3081 and GR-8758 had their sniper rifles, about half the squad had ARs. It would be easier to fire those weapons if they were in hand instead of tied up in packs and among supplies but TK-1959 wasn’t going to be picky. His pistol sat holstered against his right thigh. He brushed his hand against it, sliding his thumb along the grip of the blaster.

“Whatever we may find, you are Stormtroopers,” Hux murmured. “You trained for simple easy combat between men. You will never face that in the field. Instead we have this. It’s time to shed your useless training and become what you were meant to be.”

TK-1959 wrapped his hand around the grip of his blaster. The holster released.

Hux turned to face the skittering behind them, blaster raised and his Stormtroopers responded, all of them turning to face the enemy behind them.

Nothing.

Nothing!

TK-1959 couldn’t believe his eyes! The shadows held nothing! Not even the shining eyes of lurking spiders, there was nothing there!

Wait…

TK-1959 looked up, raised his pistol, and fired at the gigantic spider that descended toward them, her splayed legs full of trap net.

The squad responded, all of their weapons pointed up as they fired at the gigantic monstrosity that dangled over them. She struck, slamming the trap net over the middle of the squad. SK-0331, GR-8758, and TT-1098 screamed as the spider grabbed all three of them in the trap net and pulled herself up, lifting them into the air in her giant legs. Tiny spiders, no larger than a Stormtrooper helmet, scuttled down the giant like insects swarming over their queen, swarming over the trap net to lend their spinnerets to the task of binding the three captives.

“It’s resistant to blaster fire!” TK-1959 shouted.

RX-3081 dropped his pack and pulled the sniper rifle from his back. He opened it, not bothering to set it up beyond the bare necessities as he knelt down, aimed, and fired.

**POW**

She dropped the trap net full of bound captives. FR-2116 and TK-1959 grabbed the webbed bundle and pulled their wriggling comrades to the side.

**POW**

She hissed, descending toward RX-3081 with both forelimbs raised in threat. Her fangs chewed to stimulate her venom.

**POW**

She reacted when the sniper bolt impacted the base of her abdomen, shredding her spinnerets and snapping the line that held her aloft. RX-3081 dove out of the way as she dropped onto the path below.

“Don’t get bit!” Hux shouted as he reached into his belt and pulled a trio of throwing knives. He threw one at a time into her segmented eyes and she screamed as her flailing legs tore down the walls that penned the path in.

TK-1959 shot into the mass above them as FR-2116 tore ineffectually at the trap net. The spiders above them were the size of hands, helms, R2 units, himself, but there was nothing the size of this, this spider queen. They scattered as he fired into them, smaller spiders falling burnt and larger spiders dragging themselves away to the safety of the forest.

Meanwhile the spider queen thrashed, turning her head to see Hux out of her non-primary eyes. She gave a wet-sounding roar and raised her forelegs in challenge. He hissed in his own challenge and reached into his sleeves to pull his knives. She reared and struck, hitting the ground as he jumped back.

“I can’t kill it with just the rifle,” RX-3081 shouted.

“Then get me up there!” Hux ordered.

“Ready!”

RX-3081 dropped his sniper rifle and instead threaded his hands together. Hux backed up to him, stood on those hands, and let himself be thrown as he jumped. RX-3081 dodged as the spider queen slammed her fangs down where he’d stood but her pedipalps grabbed him. He screamed as she hissed, chewing the air. “HUX!”

Hux landed on the spider’s flank, dropping one knife as he grabbed the large wiry hairs that covered her carapace. He stabbed her with the other knife and used both handholds to haul himself onto her back. Her legs reached for him, trying to grab him even as she bit down.

Hux pulled another knife from his boot and sliced into her neck. She screamed as he sliced down, further down, pressing the knives through carapace that fought and cracked and gave.

She screamed as he dug his knives in, slowly carving her head from her body.

And then it finally stopped and the head fell limp. The body curled as nerve signals stopped.

The spider queen was dead.

Hux stood on the corpse, arms soaked to the shoulders in spider ichor. His knives were filthy, the monofilament edges dulled away. His eyes shone in the darkness, his chest heaved from exertion, sweat and ichor coaxed his spots to flushing and TK-1959 looked up in awe. Hux really was… beautiful.

“Ow…” RX-3081 whined.

“You okay?” Hux called.

“Knife?” FR-2116 asked.

Hux tossed him one of his knives and he recoiled from the slimy thing. He made a disgusted noise as he lifted it before accepting this new reality and beginning to slice open the trap net.

“No…” RX-3081 whimpered. “Hurts…”

Hux hissed and jumped down next to the severed head of the spider queen. RX-3081 lay next to it, gasping for air. He clawed at his own armor. Hux gestured and TT-1098 and JN-1301 started undoing the fastenings that held RX-3081’s breastplate together.

Hux pulled away the breastplate. Two large dents gouged the duraplast armor where the spider queen’s fangs impacted. A pool of venom dripped from one gouge but the other…

TT-1098 pushed RX-3081’s underarmor up exposing the skin beneath.

One fang dented the armor hard enough that the beginnings of an impact bruise blossomed on his skin. But the other...

A perfect round hole marked where the other fang stabbed through.

“How’s… it look?” RX-3081 asked, gasping through the pain. He saw the look on Hux’s face. “T-that bad?”

Hux schooled his features and ran a hand through RX-3081’s hair. “You’ll be fine, Rex,” he said, voice wavering.

“You’re trying… to name me… I know it’s… oh Chaos… it’s bad…”

FR-2116 managed to free the captives and their complaints went quiet as they all saw the gigantic dead spider queen and RX-3081 on the ground.

“We have to get out of here,” GR-8758 said.

“I agree,” SK-0331 said.

“Leave me… here… I’m as… as good as dead… I can slow… them down…”

TK-1959 fell to his knees. This wasn’t happening. RX-3081 was of Hux’s cadre, he couldn’t be dying like this! It wasn’t fair! They were supposed to complete this stupid mission with its stupid spiders and be safe home on the _Locutor_! This wasn’t happening!

“Shouldn’t we do something?” TT-1098 asked.

“I don’t know what class of venom these spiders possess,” Hux said, his voice carefully neutral. “I don’t know how bad it’ll get or if… if he’ll survive.”

“All the reason… to leave… me here… I’ll just… slow everyone down.”

“We have stims and bacta in the first aid kit,” JN-1301 offered.

Hux nodded.

“And a felt stylus for use on skin,” JN-1301 said.

“Get me that.”

JN-1301 dug through the first aid kit as GR-8758 and SK-0331 nodded and began distributing RX-3081’s pack. TK-1959 accepted the half-full water cube as the others took food, tools, spade, weapons, wood, little things. Hux took the felt stylus and drew a circle on RX-3081’s skin with the notation ‘0 hours’.

GR-8758 then began to break up his own pack and TK-1959 felt relief for the first time since the spider maze. They weren’t leaving Rex behind.

They weren’t leaving RX-3081.

Above them the moonlight broke through the forest canopy for the first time that night.

This was fine.


	8. The Trial of Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the last one combined fulfill the Poison/Venom prompt for the [Bad Things Happen Bingo](https://nebulousmistress.tumblr.com/post/616692789320810496/here-is-your-card-for-bad-things-happen-bingo) card I acquired.
> 
> Field Surgery warning  
> Minor Gore warning  
> 19th Century Type Snakebite Treatment warning  
> also contains Liberties Taken With Science For Plot Purposes

This was not fine.

They found a larger clearing this time, a hollow in the forest like a wound. No trees grew in the giant round depression, no plants of any type. The sky above was clear, left bare of tree limbs or thorns or any trace of webbing. The crescent red moon shone down, providing the tiniest sliver of copper light.

JN-1301 and SK-0331 built the fire up in the center of the hollow, piling sticks and webbing sheets and fallen logs into a burning pile more suited for a bonfire than a campsite. Troopers sat too close to the fire, baking in their armor, but too scared of the forest around them to move away. GR-8758 dropped RX-3081 to the ground near the fire while Hux paced the outer edge of this fortuitous campsite.

TK-1959 shivered despite the heat of the raging fire. Praxis was not what he thought a first mission would be. A squad’s first mission was supposed to be easy. Subdue a village. Search a settlement for a mission critical token, a droid or a datapad. Acquire goods on behalf of a cadre. Guard a merchant swarm. But this?

Praxis was a death world.

Trackless desert. Giant spiders. Giant leeches. Fetid ponds. Reeking swamp. This creepy kriffing forest with its innumerable eyes watching, always watching. 

TK-1959 pulled away from the fire, only then realizing how hot it was. His hands hurt from the heat, his knees burned, his face hurt. He got to his feet and retreated from the blaze, his eyes night-blind from the light. He could barely make out the sight of Captain Hux walking the perimeter.

RX-3081 moaned and shivered on the ground. GR-8758 ran a hand through his hair before looking up for someone to help him.

The spider’s bite to his chest had swollen and turned dusky. The ink line denoting the edge of the bite now sat well within the purple splotch.

“Should have… left me…” RX-3081 grumbled.

“Shut up,” GR-8758 ordered. “You keep saying that. It’s not helping.”

“Not trying to… help…”

“At least don’t make it worse.”

TK-1959 knelt down next to RX-3081. He pressed on the purplish swelling, it was soft. The bite wound leaked dark fluid and he had to look away.

“Not sure… how worse… I can make it…”

The wound looked worse than festering. A fester might look this gross but that took days to develop. Whatever venom this spider had worked faster than that, much faster. If the bite were on his arm they could just amputate the limb but this was a bite to the chest. RX-3081 was lucky the spider’s fang didn’t puncture the chest cavity, instead hitting a rib as it bit in. 

RX-3081 trembled and he tried to roll onto his side.

“You cold?” TK-1959 asked. “We can bring you closer to the fire.”

RX-3081 shook his head. Instead he tried to roll away from the fire as his tremble grew into a full shudder.

“RX, can you hear me?” GR-8758 asked.

RX-3081 kept shuddering but didn’t answer.

“Hux!” TK-1959 shouted. “Problem!”

The shout roused the rest of camp, pulling sullen Stormtroopers away from the fire.

TK-1959 forcibly rolled RX-3081 onto his back and tried to hold him still. The wounded man’s shudders turned into full-on thrashing as he kicked and flailed and all but tried to throw TK-1959 off of him.

“Hold him!” TK-1959 shouted. Hands grabbed at RX-3081’s ankles, pulling and trying to keep him still. Still he thrashed, his breath coming in desperate pants.

TK-1959 had no idea what to do. He had no medical training. This wasn’t something he could slap a bacta patch onto and call it done. It made the shouted suggestions behind him all the more useless.

“Is that a seizure? I’ve never seen one before.”

“Stick something in his mouth!”

“He’ll swallow his tongue, you need to grab it.”

“We should have left him.”

“Ewww the bite looks bad. It needs to be cut out.”

“Burn it! That’ll help.”

TK-1959 wanted them all to shut up. He wanted to curl up and not be here anymore. He wanted this stupid mission over with so he could go home to the  _ Locutor _ and curl up in his own bunk and be safe. He wanted…

He heard a snarl and pulled away as Hux growled, warning him off of RX-3081’s squirming form. Hux pressed RX-3081 to the ground and stared into his eyes.

RX-3081 stared back up without a mote of recognition. Instead his eyes filled with fear and he screamed.

“Stop it!” TT-1098 shouted. She rushed in and shoved Hux off of RX-3081. “You’re scaring him! Can’t you see he’s terrified?! You’re terrifying!”

RX-3081 sat up screaming. He clawed at the wound on his chest, at the ground, at anything he could get his hands on.

“Hold him down!” GR-8758 shouted.

TK-1959 darted back in, grabbing one of RX-3081’s arms and fighting to keep him controlled. GR-8758 grabbed the other arm while RX-3081 kicked and thrashed and screamed in utter terror.

“Shut him up, shut him up!” SK-0331 shouted. “We should have left him!”

“It wasn’t your decision!” TT-1098 shouted back. She tried to hold RX-3081’s feet still but he kicked her off.

“Maybe it should be!”

“I don’t even understand why you’re  **alive** ,” FN-2304 snapped. “Hux should have killed you!”

“He didn’t kill me, he couldn’t leave RX-3081 behind, he let TK-1959 steal his kills, he’s weak! He’s nothing but a weak alien monster and none of us should be defending him. We shouldn’t even be here!”

“I’m regretting not killing you when I had the chance!” TK-1959 shouted. “Maybe I will if you don’t shut up!”

“All of you shut up!” JN-1301 screamed. “Listen to yourselves!”

“‘Ourselves’?!” SK-0331 demanded. “Listen to yourself! What are we doing here! We’re trapped on this death planet because this, this  **monster** says so!” He gestured at where Hux had been lurking. “Because he says he has orders! Because…” he trailed off, his own rant falling away. He glanced around, fear rising on his face. Hux wasn't there.

“Of course we had orders,” FN-2304 snapped. “We’re Stormtroopers! That’s how this works! We get orders to do a job and we do it! And if you can’t understand that then, again, why are you alive.”

TK-1959 watched as the screaming match faded, as Stormtroopers all moved to choose sides. One by one they abandoned SK-0331 to his side of the fire, all clustering around the still struggling RX-3081.

SK-0331 stood alone, shaking as he glared. Then something on that side of the fire moved and he wasn’t alone anymore. A hiss was his only warning as a hand wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air and pulling him backwards and off balance.

“Keep going,” Hux warned, the whisper in SK-0331’s ear loud enough for all to hear. “I won’t have to kill you. I won’t even eat you. My mother had a saying for people like you,  _ chuba yafulkee _ . ‘Not worth eating.’ Why should I kill you when it’s not worth my time? Why should I eat you when I’d rather see you rot in a spider’s web on a ‘death planet’?”

SK-0331 tried to get his feet under him but Hux yanked him further off balance. All he could do was whimper.

“As for why I haven’t killed you yet,” Hux continued. He glanced at his squad and purred. “True power is knowing I don’t have to. One word, one glance, even a thought in your direction is all it would take and they will fight for the right to kill you first. Your own squadmates, solely because you have disappointed me that fully. So keep going. Please. Because I won’t stop them.”

TK-1959 considered it. He could pull his pistol right now and end SK-0331 and Hux wouldn’t stop him. He glanced over and saw the same twitch in FN-2304’s fingers. TT-1098 cracked her knuckles. JN-1301 drew her thumb across her own neck as she glared.

Hux was right. They would all kill without a second thought. They’d even kill a squadmate, if SK-0331 deserved to be called such anymore. Gladly. Efficiently.

Hux reached into SK-0331’s holster and pulled his pistol from him. Then he let go. He stuffed the Stormtrooper pistol down his own belt as he left SK-0331 alone.

Attention turned back onto their wounded squadmate. Hux pulled the felt stylus and drew a new circle around the purple swelling on RX-3081’s chest with the notation ‘3 hours’.

RX-3081 moaned and stared at the sky above. He still writhed, slowly trying to wrench his limbs out of the grip of his saner comrades.

“Look at me,” Hux commanded, leaning over the wounded man.

RX-3081 looked up with uncomprehending eyes. Those eyes went wide with fear and he began to scream again.

“You’re still terrifying!” TT-1098 snapped. “He’s scared. Of you! He doesn’t recognize you!”

“I think we should take a knife to the wound,” GR-8758 offered. “Try and cut some of the poison out.”

“At least express it like a cyst,” FN-2304 agreed.

Hux pulled away, moving behind RX-3081’s field of view.

“None of us should touch the stuff that comes out,” TK-1959 warned.

“Use one of his own pauldrons,” JN-1301 suggested. “Squeeze it, collect the gross, toss it away. Repeat.”

“If we can get the stuff out he might respond to a bacta patch,” FN-2304 realized.

“All right, who does it?” GR-8758 asked.

“I can't, it's too gross,” TT-1098 warned.

“Whoever isn’t working on him needs to hold him down,” FN-2304 warned.

TT-1098 and FR-2116 each took a leg where they wouldn’t have to watch. TK-1959 straddled his hips, keeping him from rolling away. GR-8758 grabbed one arm and JN-1301 grabbed the other, each pressing down so RX-3081 laid on the ground. FN-2304 pressed on the wound but…

“I can’t get anything out,” FN-2304 realized. “Gravity’s working against me. I need him sitting upright.”

“How do we keep him still when he’s sitting up?” JN-1301 demanded.

“Lean him up,” Hux said. GR-8758 and JN-1301 loosened their grip and TK-1959 leaned back as they all bent RX-3081 into an incline. Hux knelt behind him, arms wrapping around his shoulders to help keep him immobile. “Now try it.”

FN-2304 pressed and the wound leaked dark fluid and RX-3081 screamed and started to thrash again.

“Hold him!” FN-2304 shouted.

“Trying!” TT-1098 cried.

Hux moved one hand to RX-3081’s neck, laid his own neck on RX-3081’s shoulder, and forced himself to purr.

RX-3081 shuddered, stopped struggling, and went almost completely limp. His heavy breathing stayed ragged even as it evened out and his eyes fell closed.

FN-2304 watched this, the shock plain on his face.

Hux gave a momentary hiss and RX-3081 jumped. Hux started purring again and that tension bled away again.

“Keep doing that,” FN-2304 said. He pressed around the wound and it leaked freely. RX-3081 moaned in fear, in pain, in something but he didn’t scream or thrash. “Okay.” He squeezed to express the fluid, catching it in RX-3081’s own pauldron before tossing it onto the ground. He expressed the wound again and again.

When nothing more could be expressed Hux wordlessly handed FN-2304 a knife. RX-3081 nearly vibrated with the force of Hux’s desperate purr as FN-2304 pulled at poisoned flesh and slowly carved it away.

TT-1098 retched and shuddered but didn’t vomit. TK-1959 watched in fascinated horror as FN-2304 carved flesh away down to the bare ribs. He could see those ribs move with every breath and he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He found he had to watch as the fluid seeping from that wound turned more and more red with every slice of the knife.

FN-2304 carved away a patch of flesh the width of a hand from RX-3081’s chest. He pressed on the healthy flesh, expressing the last few traces of venom from healthy tissue, and wiped them away with a scrap of RX-3081’s own underarmor.

Someone handed him a bacta patch from the first aid kit.

FN-2304 looked up to see SK-0331 holding the bacta patch out for him to take. SK-0331 wouldn’t look at any of them, his gaze fixed at the ground. FN-2304 took the patch with a quiet ‘thank you’ and unwrapped the healing bandage. He spread it over the debrided wound, pressing it to seal against the skin.

Then he stood up, peeled his filthy armored gloves and bracers from his hands, and tossed them all in the fire. He stormed off to the edge of the forest and screamed into the night.

“We just need to keep him stable now,” GR-8758 said hopefully. “And keep him from ripping the patch off.”

“I’ll stay,” TK-1959 volunteered.

JN-1301 let go. TK-1959 grabbed RX-3081’s wrist and held it down to the ground. GR-8758 let go next and TK-1959 grabbed that wrist as well. TT-1098 and FR-2116 pulled away next and RX-3081 didn’t thrash.

Hux stopped purring.

RX-3081 whined and wriggled, trying to pull himself from TK-1959’s grasp. TK-1959 held tight with all his weight and strength as Hux resumed purring.

RX-3081 stopped fighting, slowly going limp again.

TK-1959 watched the realization and then the resignation in Hux’s eyes as he kept purring. Already the sound was stuttering and scratchy. Exhausted. But there was a resolve there, the decision to endure.

TK-1959 stayed straddling RX-3081, resolving to hold him down for as long as it took. He wouldn’t make Hux endure this alone. Not when they might just have saved RX-3081’s life.

Night slowly turned to a gray morning. Nobody slept. A few scattered conversations went nowhere as the fire slowly died down to something more befitting of a camp. SK-0331 stayed away from the rest of camp, drawing in the dirt with a stick. Everyone else kept watch on the forest around them and on the pair holding RX-3081 still.

TK-1959 refused all attempts to switch out, he didn’t need it. Hux needed it but no one else could purr like that. Instead his voice grew hoarse, each purr forced out on the exhale like a desperate whine. Every breath looked like it hurt and still he kept going.

Until finally RX-3081’s breathing hitched. He opened his eyes, looked right at TK-1959, and  _ recognized him _ .

Hux fell limp across RX-3081’s back.

“You okay?” TK-1959 asked.

Hux made the tiniest rasping sound. He pulled away, dragging himself in his exhaustion, and collapsed on the ground. Every labored breath sounded like wind through bloody reeds as he gasped and coughed.

“Better…” RX-3081 said. He sounded as exhausted as Hux did. As TK-1959 felt. As they all likely felt.

TK-1959 unstraddled his patient and found himself too tired to get up. Instead he sat on the ground and stayed there.

They did it. They all did it.

RX-3081 had survived.

Hux groaned weakly and curled in on himself. He took the water JN-1301 gave him but nothing else, not even trying to speak.

They would be travelling nowhere today.

*****

TK-1959 sat up with a groan. He still wasn’t used to sleeping in his armor. His shoulders and knees ached from the events of last night. His back and butt ached from the week and a half of walking across this world’s less than hospitable surface. His neck ached from sleeping on the ground without even his helmet to keep his head from lolling oddly. He staggered to his feet.

Sunlight stabbed down from the open sky above like a spotlight. The forest all around them remained dark and foreboding even as the trees carried more leaves and less spines. Fewer sheets of web penned them in and fewer eyes watched from the shadows.

The fire still burned in the middle of the hollow, now reduced to a pile of smoldering coals. Stacked fuel sat near those coals in case they planned on staying here tonight, to rebuild the fire into something that might keep them safe. A storage cube of water sat near those coals, the water inside kept near a simmer and several dozen spider legs the length of a hand lay roasting on the coals themselves.

RX-3081 sat up on his own, the bacta patch leaking thin red rivulets from the left side where the patch didn’t quite cover the wound fully. He held a survival mug in his bare hands, delicate steam indicating it was still hot. He leaned over, inhaling the steam, and took small sips.

RX-3081 scowled at his mug. He reached in with one hand and pulled a spider’s leg from the mug. He sucked at the end of that leg then tossed it away as he chewed openmouthed.

“We just saved your life and you’re eating those things?” TT-1098 complained.

RX-3081 gestured toward where Hux still slept. “He eats it and he’s fine,” he said. “Couldn’t stand another day of ration bars.” He sipped his mug of spider soup.

“He’s also a monster,” SK-0331 warned. “You’re just a human.”

“Clearly you’ve never been to the Outer Rim,” FN-2304 drawled. “There are planets out there where ‘food’ means ‘anything that moves’.”

“Like Arkanis, I gather,” RX-3081 agreed. He knocked back a large gulp of soup. “It’s not bad once you get used to it.”

“Pass,” GR-8758 said. “Too hairy.”

“That’s what the fire’s for. Burn the hairs off.”

TK-1959 felt his stomach rumble. Much like RX-3081 he grew tired of the ration bars. Survival ration bars tasted mildly sweet and inoffensive but they tended to get dull over time. They were also a finite resource, one that they’d all burned through faster than expected. This was a contingency planned from the start of their mission - they all know they’d all have to choose, to start rationing their own supplies or to scavenge from their surroundings.

He seriously considered asking RX-3081 about the spider legs and if he could have some.

Behind him Hux stirred. He rolled over onto his belly and pushed, rising to his knees. From there Hux unlatched his breastplate, pulled it off, and then began to stretch. He grabbed the ground with his hands and pulled back like a Loth-cat complete with the wide-mouthed yawn. He wiggled his hips then his shoulders, then pulled himself forward to stretch more.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Captain,” FN-2304 said. “How much longer do we plan to stay at this site?”

Hux made a faint rasping sound as he stretched then immediately stopped, eyes wide.

“What is it?” RX-3081 asked.

Hux took a deep breath and visibly tried to speak. Instead he made that rasp again. He tried a series of other sounds, growls and hisses. He could make these though they sounded forced. His attempt to purr left him visibly pained and gasping for air. But that was less important than the fact that he’d lost his voice.

“You should have kept RX-3081 as your second,” FN-2304 said.

“Hey, I abdicated fair and square,” RX-3081 complained. “He kept trying to make me do paperwork.” He gestured toward Hux with his mug.

Hux sniffed the mug as it was shoved in his general direction. He crept closer, not quite rising to his feet as he moved, and made a sound almost like a chirp as he tried to grab the mug.

“Hey, get your own,” RX-3081 whined. He held it close to his chest where it couldn’t be grabbed.

Hux crouched next to RX-3081 and leaned against him. He nuzzled the man’s neck, green eyes wide and imploring.

“No,” RX-3081 said. “I’m not making one for you. Get your own. There are spider legs in the fire, water’s over there, use your own pfassking mug. And you’re not cute so stop trying.”

Hux made a sound halfway between a murr and a growl, got to his feet, and batted RX-3081 on the back of the head as he sulked off to make his own mug of soup.

“Paperwork or no you really should have kept 3081 as your second,” FN-2304 said. “I didn’t hear a word you said there and somehow he understood all that.”

“You never met a Loth-cat,” JN-1301 said. “I understood that.”

“And you’re wrong,” TK-1959 said. “He’s plenty cute.”

RX-3081 choked on his soup and coughed to clear his throat while TT-1098 snorted and JN-1301 hid her laughter. Hux paused, cocked his head, chirped, then went back to filling his mug with simmering water from the cube and dipping spider legs into it like nightmarish tea.

TK-1959 blushed as he realized what he’d said. He hid his face behind his knees and made a murring sound that Hux would have been proud of.

FN-2304 shook his head. “You’re all weird,” he said. “I gather we’re staying here tonight then?”

Hux leaned over his mug of what was soon to be a weak soup and rumbled as he inhaled deeply.

“Sounds like it,” JN-1031 said.

RX-3081 nodded.

They needed the day to rest and recover. The ruins were still a few days distant.


	9. The Trial of Purification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mild NSFW, nothing overly graphic  
> Hallucinations ahead  
> The Force totally works this way guys, honest. Yoda said it's okay, don't bother him about it

The forest changed as they hiked. The glowing mushrooms reduced to little bracket fungi, tiny motes of color clinging to the sides of trees. Those trees had leaves, real leaves that rustled and furled and turned the sunlight green as it filtered down to the path they followed.

That path wasn’t hemmed in by sheets of spider’s webs. The only spiders they saw were the smaller ones, no bigger than a helmet, lurking among pairs of leaves webbed together. There were other animals now, lizards and salamanders, that the spiders spent their focus on. After the horrors of the past few days it was refreshing to watch a spider eat a lizard in something like an ordinary predator-prey cycle.

Undergrowth spread underneath the trees in the green twilight, dark green leaves and vines covering the forest floor and yet the path they followed remained clear.

“This must be the jungle,” TT-1098 mused. “There’s supposed to be a jungle around the ruin.”

“I wonder who made this path,” FN-2304 asked.

“Maybe the remains of an old road?” RX-3081 supplied.

TK-1959 wondered as well. It seemed too natural to be part of a crumbling ruin and yet too deliberate to be natural.

Hux sniffed the air around them and rumbled.

Two days now and he still hadn’t said a word since losing his voice. TT-1098 and FN-2304 led their little pack, TK-1959 and GR-8758 brought up the rearguard. RX-3081 stayed safely in the middle, his armor compromised. The breastplate was cracked, his pauldrons both missing, his underarmor shredded, his chest still healing underneath a depleted bacta patch, and Hux growled at him whenever he insisted he was fine.

It almost felt like a new routine, albeit one that TK-1959 would gladly trade for this mission’s successful end.

Hux sniffed again, weaving his way to the front of the squad. He inhaled deeply and purred, the sound still raspy from overuse.

FN-2304 put an arm out to keep Hux from moving ahead. “Unless you can tell me what you smell I’m not letting you scout ahead,” FN-2304 warned.

Hux spat a hiss and sulked back into the middle of the line.

“I think I hear it,” JN-1301 realized. “Listen. Water.”

TK-1959 strained his ears but Hux’s answering purr drowned out any water sounds.

“I hear it too,” TT-1098 realized.

They followed the path around a large hillock and the sound of water came clearer now. A creek cut through the forest and across their path, small pools of water eddying among the rocks.

“Should we clear a camp, then?” GR-8758 asked. “We’re getting light on water. We can resupply tonight.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” FN-2304 said. “Get started.”

“Should we determine if anything around here is edible?” RX-3081 asked. “Some of us are getting low on rations.”

A splash at the creek caught their attention. Hux pulled a large snake from the water as it coiled around his arms and neck. He gripped the serpent behind the head even as it hissed with ominous fangs. He pulled a knife and sliced the head off before throwing the head far downstream. The body went limp and he held it up as if to show off his prize.

“That answers that one,” TK-1959 allowed.

FN-2304 clapped his bare hands together. “All right, make camp,” he called. “Clear some ground, gather wood, start a fire, and let’s get our water in order.”

RX-3081 clapped him on the shoulder. “You make a better second than I,” he praised.

FN-2304 scowled. “I wouldn’t have to if our captain would get his frelling voice back!”

Hux hissed as he sliced open the belly of the snake then peeled the skin off. It wasn’t a threatening sound, rather it sounded tired. That hiss turned to a murring sound then a long sigh.

Soon a campsite came into being with a Stormtrooper’s efficiency. Undergrowth was cleared away, anything dry used as fuel for the fire that JN-1301 started. Water collection began upstream so the largest eddy pool downstream could be used for bathing. Hux and GR-8758 disrupted all the rocks in that eddy pool that they could, driving out or killing any animal that hid in those rocks. Several snakes and a couple of large fish dangled over the fire on skewers. Once the eddy pool cleared the water was declared safe for bathing.

TK-1959 stripped off his armor. The idea of a bath, even a bath with cold water and no soap, felt like a luxury after the past… how long had it been? Almost two weeks now.

This stupid mission was halfway over.

Their hike to the safety of the ruins was almost over!

This forest certainly looked like a jungle now that the spiders were gone. The undergrowth tangled on itself and climbed up the trees that blocked the sky with dappled green leaves. Crawling things lurked in those trees, lizards and snakes and those hopping things GR-8758 called ‘frogs’. This must be the ring of jungle around the ruins.

Maybe that meant the worst was behind them.

TK-1959 couldn’t imagine anything worse than that spider queen. Or having to hold RX-3081 down while FN-2304 carved the poisoned flesh from his chest. Or all those webs. Ugh. 

He hoped the jungle wasn’t going to provide him with something worse just to taunt him. Fate wouldn’t be that cruel. 

*****

TK-1959 hadn’t felt this good in days. The water felt amazing on his skin. Even just sitting in the eddy pool with the water up past his navel was amazing. He rubbed his skin down with a section of cloth sacrificed from RX-3081’s useless underarmor, feeling nearly two weeks of crust and grime and sweat wash away in the creek’s current. The cold water should have tensed his muscles but he’d never felt more relaxed in his life. Every ache bled away downstream while the others also gloried in wonderful cleanliness or awaited their turn while camp carried on around them.

He brought the cloth over his head, scrubbing water through his greasy hair and over his face. He felt… renewed. Reinvigorated. But there was more he could do. He leaned back into the water, letting the eddy swallow him entirely. He sat up, shaking the water from his eyes and laughing. If every shower on the _Locutor_ felt like this he’d never manage to finish within the time allotment again.

But all good things and such nonsense. Maybe he could come back after everyone else had their chance to get clean. After all, they had all night here. There was no reason not to.

He stood up, bare feet splayed against the rocks as he carefully picked his way out to the bank. From there he tossed the cloth to the next person and contemplated not getting dressed. His clothing, the underclothes and his underarmor, were as filthy as he’d been. Maybe they could get away with some laundry tonight. 

He wasn’t quite sure how that would work, maybe rubbing their underclothes in the water and leaving them out to dry? They were Stormtroopers, they knew how to be naked around each other without things getting weird.

JN-1301 stripped off her armor and underarmor. Her white breast band was stained brown at the armpits with sweat and dust. As soon as she stripped it off she went at her torso with her own nails, nearly purring as she scratched what must have been a terrible itch.

“I have a proposal,” TK-1959 offered.

“Not interested,” JN-1301 said.

“Not that.”

“What about then?” She reached around to scratch her own back but couldn’t quite twist correctly. He scratched for her and she sighed and giggled and wiggled.

“Clean underwear.”

All sound and movement stopped. “You have my attention,” she said. “What’s your proposal?”

Later that evening they all sat around the fire naked. Underclothes and underarmor hung in trees and laid across vines to dry. By now only SK-0331 stuck to his ration bars, the rest of them pulling cooked flesh from roasted fish and snakes.

“I hope we’re not far from the ruins,” RX-3081 said hopefully. The depleted bacta patch on his chest was no better than a blank bandage now but it kept the air off of most of his wound.

“At most a day,” Hux rasped.

“Hey!” TT-1098 praised. “Welcome back to the land of the speaking.”

Hux purred.

“Wait no come baaack,” JN-1301 whined. “Pfassk. Lost him.”

Hux visibly ignored her complaint as he tossed his head with a huff and turned his attention to a flank of roasted snake.

“How long have you had your voice back?” FN-2304 asked accusingly.

“Fresh water,” Hux said, still forcing the words out.

“So the whole two days you’ve sounded like a monster it’s because you had to,” FN-2304 said, his tone still accusing. That tone changed when Hux didn’t contradict his statement. “Okay.”

“This planet is as much a deathtrap to me as it is to you,” Hux rasped, his voice devolving back into a growling whisper as he depleted it. “If there is anything I can do to make this nightmare more survivable I will.”

“Including trashing your voice,” FN-2304 realized.

Hux purred his assent.

“You should stop talking then,” FN-2304 said. “Rest your voice. Try and get it all the way back. We haven’t been attacked in a few days, maybe the worst is behind us.”

Hux huffed but didn’t protest. Instead he pulled another morsel off of the fire and sucked it off his fingers, licking them clean.

RX-3081 got to his feet. “I’m going to wash up then,” he said. “I guess we should figure out watches for tonight.”

“I’ll go with you,” TK-1959 said as he stood. The stream was only a few steps away so he expected RX-3081 to wave him off. Instead RX-3081 nodded and they walked the few meters to the stream.

TK-1959 splashed water on his face and scrubbed at his hands. Compared to the forest and the swamp this jungle area could almost be described as ‘pretty’. But that didn’t make it any less deadly. They still had to be on their guard. Troopers weren’t even visiting the latrines alone anymore, too afraid of not coming back.

RX-3081 watched his reflection in the smooth surface of the eddy. The dying light of day hadn’t taken their reflections yet and he ran his hands over his face as though it seemed different. But he didn’t look any different, or no more different than any of them looked. A few of them needed a good shave and they all needed some quality time with a bar of soap but that shouldn’t…

“I remember…” RX-3081 whispered. He stared into the reflection as he ran his hands over features that weren’t there.

“What is it?” TK-1959 asked.

“When the spider bit me,” RX-3081 said. His voice was flat, forlorn, almost afraid. “I saw things. Monsters. You.”

“Me?”

“All of you,” RX-3081 clarified. “SK-0331 was the only human left. He and I. The rest of you… Hux was the worst but I guess he would be. He had this snout full of teeth and solid eyes like a green-eyed Chiss. Pointed ears. Gigantic furry mane, blood red. Built like an akk dog but lithe and terribly intelligent. I could see it in his eyes. I knew it was still him, even though he looked like that.”

TK-1959 nodded. This explained why RX-3081 had screamed so much once he’d gone delirious. He’d scream too if he saw such a monster.

“The rest of you weren’t much better,” RX-3081 continued. “All of you were turning into the same type of monster. FR-2116 and FN-2304 were close enough to human that they might have still walked but the rest were more changed.” He turned and looked TK-1959 straight in the eye. “You were almost as bad as Hux.”

TK-1959 didn’t know what to say to that. It was a hallucination, nothing more. Spider venom made him see things. It didn’t mean anything.

“It was time,” RX-3081 said. “That’s what Hux said to me. Over and over. He’d put it off too long. I was cadre, that meant I should have been the first but I was afraid. I was afraid so he let me be as he took you first. He let me watch, to see what you became. What you were all becoming. I had to agree, you see. I had to want it like the rest of you wanted it. I mean, really want it. If I didn’t want it I wouldn’t survive when he… when he had you all rip me apart.”

“Did we?”

RX-3081 ran his fingertips along the edge of his bandage. “I know that’s not what really happened but…”

“I’m sorry.” TK-1959 wasn’t sure why he was apologizing for what RX-3081’s hallucination did but it felt right.

RX-3081 smiled even as he huffed a noncommittal noise. “I guess I wanted it enough,” he mused. “Once it was done you and Hux stayed with me, curled up around me. You both kept me warm in your fur. He purred all night, I felt it. You kept me alive, both of you. And when I woke up the transformation had already begun. I looked like this.”

RX-3081 gestured to his reflection and TK-1959 realized he still saw whatever monster he’d turned into. He didn’t see the real reflection at all.

“Now I guess I’ll have to get used to it,” RX-3081 said sadly. “How long does it take? Until I look like the rest of you?”

TK-1959’s blood ran cold. It wasn’t just the reflection. The entire hallucination never ended. “I’m not sure,” he offered.

“I know you’re the farthest along. How long has it been? When did it start?”

TK-1959 looked at his own reflection. He looked like himself. A human face, human teeth, sharp black eyes, a round face that made it hard for his old cadre to take him seriously as an adult. No pointed ears, no snout, and the unruly mane could be fixed with one single shower. “I’m not sure when mine began.”

RX-3081 nodded and seemed to accept that answer. “We should get back to the others,” he said. “I guess it makes night watches easier.”

“We’ll keep the fire going anyway,” TK-1959 said as he got up. “Keeps the spiders away.” He wasn’t sure what to do, whether to play along or to try and snap RX-3081 out of his delusion or hope the venom wore off over time or what. In the end he settled on nothing, not saying anything about it. It seemed harmless enough. RX-3081 saw himself as a monster. He saw them all as monsters. If that made it easier to survive this death world then TK-1959 saw no reason to break him of that belief.

They sat down back at the fire and broached the topic of night watches. 

*****

He stretched, lazily grabbing at the ground as he slowly wiggled his back end. Then he stretched forward, his belly hitting the ground as he arched back to gaze above.

He shook and got to his feet. He padded through the hallways of the _Locutor_ , familiar faces and helms all watching as he passed. He turned a corner and the hull opened to an observation deck, endless viewports all staring out at bright white Ilum below. He watched Star Destroyers circle the planet, the fledgling shipyards containing the skeletons of future ships in dry dock.

Something nagged at him. Something was wrong here. He glanced about, no, everything seemed fine. Nothing out of place. His reflection stared back at him from the transparisteel, his face lit by Ilum’s soft light. Shining black eyes, long pointed ears, full black mane, snout full of jagged teeth, no he looked completely normal.

Wait… This wasn’t right...

A flash of red out of the corner of his eye drew his attention and he knew he wasn’t alone. A monster with slavering jaws and titanium teeth came toward him, head crouched low and long ears pointed up and alert. Its blood red mane filled the corridor with color. It padded long and lean and lithe and he forgot all his worry as it nuzzled him, its purr filling him with warmth. He nuzzled back, rubbing his head along its cheek then its neck. He let it slide past him, its purr vibrating all along his body and mind as he nuzzled its bare shoulders and licked.

Spots blushed along its skin as it kneaded the deck with its paws and purred, arching into his tongue for more. He ran his own paws along its mane, the long ruff of fur that trailed down its spine, combing the oily hair with his claws as he licked more and more spots into flushing. It yowled with need, writhing under his tongue as he licked, all but drooling in his attempt to flush more and more of those spots.

A hand grabbed his snout and the monster rolled over to reveal something that looked almost human. A playful human-like face snapped titanium teeth at him and purred, wide green eyes blown with shining pupils, fiery red hair splayed like a bloodstain on the deck.

“Keep going,” Hux purred, sliding hands up into his thick black fur to draw his snout down to nuzzle. “My beautiful hound.”

TK-1959 gasped as he opened his eyes.

The jungle night was full of sound. Frogs chirped in the trees, the stream burbled among the rocks, the fire crackled as the flames ate a fresh log, small spiders chittered in their webs, the wind rustled the leaves above them. The fire cut through the darkness, casting long shadows that stretched into the dead of night.

He wasn’t on the _Locutor_ , he was still trapped on Praxis as part of this mission to some ruins. Their extraction wasn’t for another week.

TK-1959 rolled over onto his back and heard the snort.

“Good dream?” JN-1301 mocked.

TK-1959 sat up, realized what she was referring to, and then blushed. He laid back down and rolled onto his side to ignore her as she snickered and continued her shift on watch. Why had he dreamed that? And why had it caused him to react like this?

He blamed RX-3081. What he saw in his dream looked too much like what RX-3081 described to be caused by anything else. This was all his fault. That’s why he found himself curled up in camp with the rest of his squad asleep and JN-1301 pointedly not watching him as he tried to figure out what to do with this annoying dream-induced erection.

He licked his palm and figured he might as well do something about it. He could be quiet.

His thoughts drifted back to his dream. He’d felt powerful, padding about on all fours as an animal, Stormtroopers and officers alike knowing who and what he was. With the swipe of a paw or the snap of his jaws he could have ended any of them and they knew it. But it wasn’t fear in their eyes as they watched him. None of them **needed** to fear him and that made him powerful. They all had the same look in their eyes that his dream's Hux had given him before he woke up.

Adoration.

_My beautiful hound_

He squeaked as he gritted his teeth, his fist working over his desperate erection. His release hit him with a growl that rumbled deep in his chest, fading into a hiss. He let the feeling fade as he wiped his hand on the ground then rolled onto his back.

JN-1301 noticed he was finished and stopped pretending the fire was interesting.

TK-1959 appreciated the attempt at an illusion of privacy. It was about as much as he’d get in the cadre at any rate.

“Now that I’m awake I’ll take next watch,” he offered.

“I’ve still got half an hour left,” she said. She gestured to the ground next to her, a silent invitation to keep her company.

TK-1959 moved over to the offered patch of ground.

“Think our clothes are dry by now?” he asked.

“I’ll wait until morning,” she said. “Who do you think has spiders camped in their shorts?”

“That’s a good question. Do the spiders know who’s shorts belong to who? Or do they even care? Or would it be a size issue? Would the spiders prefer larger or smaller shorts?”

“Here’s a better question,” JN-1301 mused. “If you found a spider camped in your shorts what would you do? Would you wear those shorts?”

TK-1959 imagined the feeling of phantom strands of sticky silk tugging at his balls and immediately had to shut that idea down. “I might not,” he admitted. “At the very least I’d turn them inside out. There are some places silk does not go.”

“But what about the spider? Squish it? Shoot it? Eat it?”

“Eat a shorts spider.” The idea was so ridiculous it became hilarious. “That sounds like a metaphor for kinky alien sex.”

“‘Pants legs’ takes on a whole new meaning,” she drawled.

TK-1959 clamped his hands over his mouth to stifle the laughter.

“Hey shut up.” SK-0331 glared at them both from the other side of the fire. “First you have to fap and now you’re both talking all night. Some of us need to sleep.”

“Sorry,” TK-1959 said.

“Guess I should get some sleep then,” JN-1301 said. She patted TK-1959 on the shoulder. “I’m counting on you to keep the spiders out of our shorts.”

“An important task,” he agreed.

As JN-1301 curled up to get some sleep TK-1959 took the fire stick and poked it to encourage the flames higher. 

FR-2116 had watch after him and then it would be daybreak. And then shorts spiders.

*****

The spiders had indeed found their shorts. Not just their shorts, all of their clothing. FN-2304 shoved a stick into his boot as the spider inside hissed at him. FR-2116 abandoned his webbed undershirt attached to the vines as he got dressed without it. JN-1301 refused to wear that glove, instead choosing to go barehanded. Hux held his breastplate over the fire to roast the spider that had decided to claim it. RX-3081 gave up on his chest underarmor, instead wearing his dented and damaged breastplate over his undershirt. GR-8758 turned his leg underarmor inside out, the large splotch of silk on his knee hidden under an armor plate that might now be the most secure armor plate ever. TT-1098 blamed TK-1959 for this as she abandoned the squad’s last helmet to the spider that lurked within.

TK-1959 glared at SK-0331 and then back at his underwear. Somehow this planet was laughing at them all. That was the only reason he could find to explain why he had the shorts spider and SK-0331 was the sole individual in their squad to have clean clothes without spiders in them.

“You’re never getting that boot off,” SK-0331 warned, laughing.

“Shut up,” FN-2304 snapped. He slammed the boot against the ground to try and knock the spider around.

“Boot goes on the spider, not the other way around,” GR-8758 said.

“You shut up too,” FN-2304 growled. He glared into the shaft of the boot. Tiny shining eyes glared back at him.

“Whatever you do, don’t stick your hand in there,” Hux warned. “You do not want a field amputation.” He pulled the dead spider out of his armor and let the last of the webbing burn off.

“Well what am I supposed to do then?” FN-2304 demanded.

Hux used a pauldron from his own armor to scoop some coals from the fire. He held the pauldron out, offering to dump those coals into the boot. FN-2304 offered his boot and Hux poured.

FN-2304 shook the boot as the spider inside died and the webbing burned.

TK-1959 watched forlornly. His own shorts couldn’t be salvaged in such a way. He couldn’t even wear them inside out without risking his underarmor fusing to them. He sighed and watched the spider inside his underwear as it wiggled its pedipalps and dared him to try something.

“Give it up,” JN-1301 said. “The spider won. Those are it’s shorts now.”

“Yeah,” TK-1959 admitted. He dropped his shorts back on the vine where he’d lost ownership of them and began pulling on his underarmor. His thankfully safe underarmor free of any wildlife or spider construction.

Hux finally began to fasten his own breastplate. “Alright, we should be less than a day to the ruins,” he said. “We’ll get there tonight and make a more permanent camp tomorrow. From there we’ll need to find food and water while we search the ruins. Our orders are to acquire every artifact not nailed down. Other than that, we are ordered to leave the ruins intact and unviolated. Any questions?”

“Yeah, if we can pry it up does that count as ‘nailed down’ or not?” RX-3081 asked.

Several troopers tried and failed to cover their laughter.

“That depends on the context,” Hux allowed. He pulled his armor tight and set his pauldrons. “Pack up, let’s go.”

TK-1959 finished strapping on his own armor as FN-2304 dumped coals and the dead spider from his boot. Everyone finished getting ready, hoisted their own packs, and got ready for their last day of this nightmarish trek.

The day passed uneventfully. It felt like the first true uneventful day since the desert below. Instead they hiked with a growing sense of anticipation. What would the ruins look like? Would it be like the grand temples on Thule or Dathomir? Would it be dull and featureless like Auratera? Would it hold the remains of passionate beauty or would it be a monument to serene boredom?

The path began to change about midday, the remains of cobblestones popping up like mushroom caps under the dirt of ages. The path widened into a full avenue of flagstones broken by weeds and then even the weeds faded as the trees parted and the temple itself came into view.

Even in ruins it was beautiful.

The temple sat at the opposite edge of a valley devoid of trees. The flat valley contained those ever so precious landing spots TK-1959 once mapped. The temple sat squat and unassuming behind the embellishments of statues, of overgrowing vines, of menhirs and pillars, of the avenue that approached it and a great round courtyard.

Grand statues of carven stone stood flanking the wide avenue as they approached. Humanoid aliens gazed out with blank eyes from beneath hoods of stone adorned with great sheets of glowing bracket fungi that lent color and life to the ancient figures. Vines clung to the figures nearest the jungle, giving them vast cloaks of leaves that trailed behind them like royal trains. Spiders lurked, draping statues in the finest silk robes lit from beneath by the bioluminescent fungi.

The avenue widened into the vast courtyard and the statues changed. No longer did they gaze with blank judgmental stares. Now their expressions changed, any possible serenities of light shed in favor of their own chosen power.

A beautiful alien male stood nude with his oddly polished hemipenis erect, cloaked only in a riotous fall of green vines and tiny purple flowers that cascaded from his shoulders. His stone face was frozen in a knowing smirk as his stone arms invited their scrutiny and their worship. The stone plinth upon which he stood was covered in marks carved into the surface, graffiti of erect cocks and weeping cunts and gaping mouths and organs less identifiable left as offerings or prayers.

A feral woman stood resplendent in tarnished bronze armor, mouth open in a silent snarl. Spiders hissed in warning from her silken robes, the glow of reddish fungi diffuse under the webs. Her teeth glittered, fangs of clear ruby inset into the open mouth to catch the light of the setting sun. She stood upon a pile of broken weapons, the claws of her bare hands weapon enough for her rage. Words of fury and vengeance marred her stone plinth in Basic and Chiss and Sith and a dozen different languages living and extinct.

A figure knelt with stone cloak wrapped around them. Dead and dormant vines clung to the statue, surrounding it in death. Its plinth carried laments, words of loss, prayers of grief, but there were no details to this figure. Even shining a light up its cloak revealed nothing, just an empty cloak and a sense of loss.

A male and female paired, twins, the both of them wielding long sabres of solid ruby that sparkled. They stood back to back, daring any to approach. Silk tied them together, destroying any separation between the two that might have existed, and the faint glow of red fungi seemed like bloodstains on their tarnished bronze breastplates. Their shared plinth carried pleas for aid, prayers asking for strength, and the occasional lewd comment about incest.

A figure with ruby eyes, a Chiss perhaps, stood with one hand extended in what might have been a display of power. His other hand held an open book and spider silk gave his long hair a sense of movement in the afternoon breeze. The blue glow of bracket fungi lent him an ethereal quality and his plinth carried prayers asking for prowess in sorcery.

TK-1959 shuddered as he looked into the blank eyes of the Sith of ages past. Their gazes felt calculating, penetrating, like they were all being judged after coming this far. It was a ridiculous idea, these were statues and as far as he knew none of them were Force sensitive in the slightest.

That didn’t stop the strange feeling of glee as their gazes turned warm, almost like they approved of him. Like he was welcome here, his presence blessed.

Beyond the courtyard the avenue continued to an enclosed temple of stone flanked by statues of monsters. A curtain of webbing betrayed what they might find within but that ordeal could wait for another day.

Hux led them off of the paved avenue between the statues of the avenue’s approach. “This will do for tonight,” he said and they all broke into pairs to complete their now familiar nightly tasks. Gather wood for a fire, clear the site of brush, kill any nearby dangerous fauna, set up a water cube for cooking and drinking, take stock of remaining ration bars, dig a latrine pit downwind of their fire, start the fire, assess any injuries…

The hard part of their mission was over. Now all they had to do was explore the temple, loot anything interesting, and wait for pickup.

Surely that wouldn’t be difficult.


	10. The Temple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. The Force still works like this.

The Sith of ages past watched, their blank eyes flickering in the firelight of the campfire. The red halfmoon shone from zenith, its coppery light lending the landscape a faint fiery glow. The pale moon rolled along the western horizon, barely peeking through the jungle treeline.

SK-0331 ate his ration bars while the rest of the squad held speared small animals over the fire or poked at curled spiders nestled in the coals. Their camp consisted of a fire and a latrine downwind of that fire. The only hint of long term habitation was the stick next to the latrine and the book tied to that stick. The Wilderness Survival handbook had served its purpose well, nearly all of its flimsii pages torn out and missing.

“How long will we be here?” RX-3081 asked.

“Several days,” Hux admitted. “Perhaps a week. Longer if the Knights of Ren can’t pull through.”

“We have water,” FN-2304 said. “Most of us are out of rations but we can acquire food. We might cobble together some kind of shelter. It hasn’t rained since we’ve landed but can we count on that continuing?”

“What will we do while we’re here?” TT-1098 asked. “That temple doesn’t look very big. I mean, there could be more underground but even so…”

“We never did tell stories,” RX-3081 said.

“What stories do we have?” JN-1301 asked.

“How we came to the First Order?” SK-0331 asked.

“I was rescued from some planet I don’t even remember,” TK-1959 said, his voice carefully neutral. “Done.”

“Same,” TT-1098 said. “Next?”

“I was a Stormtrooper with the Empire,” FN-2304 admitted.

This brought the attention of everyone else. TK-1959 looked FN-2304 up and down. He didn’t carry himself like he was much older than the rest of them. But then so much of age seemed wrapped up in rank and wait… “You’re still a Stormtrooper,” TK-1959 realized. “Most Stormtroopers are just over two decades old. Even Captain Hux isn’t older than that.”

“How old are you?” RX-3081 asked.

“Forty five standard years.”

SK-0331 choked on his ration bar.

“You never made Sergeant,” Hux said. “You could have had your own cadre below you. Rank on your shoulder. Your name.”

“I had a name,” FN-2304 said. “I gave it up. The rebels took everything from me. My family, my livelihood, my world. They might as well keep my name while they’re at it. I’ve never wanted it back. I’ve turned down promotion for a decade and a half because I don’t want it back.”

“You could take a new one?” RX-3081 suggested.

Hux shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way,” he said. “If you had a name before your number you’ll get that name back.”

“My family name was Opan,” FN-2304 said. “We were farmers. After the Battle of Yavin I joined the Empire, decided to do my part. I wasn’t home when the Rebellion decided to ‘liberate’ my homeworld. My family died and I wasn’t there to die with them.”

TK-1959 looked down at his hands. The armor of his gloves was brown with caked dust and grime. He wondered if his own past was as terrible and he just didn’t remember it.

“I was stationed on the _Eclipse_ ,” FN-2304 said, memory overwhelming him. “After everything began to fall apart I stayed to enact the Emperor’s final orders. Those first few months were chaos. I remember hearing news about the Battle of Jakku and I knew… I thought it was all over. The Rebels took my home, my family, my name, now they took my Empire from me. Hadn’t they taken enough?”

FN-2304 took a deep breath to steady himself. Then he continued, his eyes fixed on his hands as he spoke.

“I was on the flight deck when the _Alpha Imperialis_ landed. After everything we’d lost I… All I wanted was something to hope for. Some glimmer of hope that it hadn’t all been for nothing.”

FN-2304 looked up straight at Captain Hux. “I saw you.”

Hux looked entirely too neutral, his breathing carefully flat. Only the bright green of his eyes gave away his unease.

“Grand Admiral Sloane led Commandant Brendol Hux and the Sentinel droid from the _Alpha Imperialis_. The Commandant immediately left with some admirals. And then I saw you. You couldn’t have been older than five and yet you had an entire squad behind you. I watched them all, they belonged to you. Not the Commandant, not the Grand Admiral. You.”

“They were also children,” Hux said softly.

“We thought the same thing. Then I watched one of those children kill and dismember a fully armed and armored Stormtrooper with nothing more than a knife because you ordered it. Those children were trained to sense fear, to kill without remorse, and to accept no weakness in anyone who deigned to lead them. They allowed themselves to be led only by a commander they believed was strong enough. You. And you were only five years old.”

Hux didn’t meet FN-2304’s eyes.

“That gave me hope,” FN-2304 said. “The Empire wouldn’t die with us. You gave me hope, Sir. That’s why I volunteered for this squad. It’s the first thing I’ve ever volunteered for since becoming a Stormtrooper and I don’t regret it.”

That caused Hux to look up and meet FN-2304’s gaze.

“You took a squad of rejects, of misfits, and lazy bastards, winnowed us down to eight candidates, and managed to keep us alive through this hellhole in less than three standard months of training.”

“Makes for a small unit,” TT-1098 mused.

“And SK-0331 tried to kill you,” FR-2116 said.

“Thank you for pointing that out,” SK-0331 snapped. “I’m sure someone here will make sure I fall down a ravine before we leave.”

“We’re a fairly well-rounded unit,” JN-1301 mused. “We have our own pilot, I’m explosives qualled, we have experts in all the major weapon types. All we need is an engineer and a droid and we’re a full mercenary team.”

“Don’t call us mercenaries,” TK-1959 pleaded. “It sounds dirty.”

“We’ll be assigned to much the same work as mercenaries,” Hux warned. “This is a ridiculous cloak-and-dagger retrieval mission. We’ll be in charge of rescue missions. Infiltrations. Assassinations. We are the hounds sent in to weaken the enemies of the First Order. Should we succeed our enemies will surrender to the First Order without the burden of the fleet at all.”

“We win wars with a single shot?” FN-2304 asked.

"And we're the single shot," JN-1301 realized.

“That’s the idea,” Hux allowed, smiling at some inner thought. 

“The Death Star was meant for that,” FN-2304 warned.

“The Death Star came into service too late to be of use,” Hux said. “The ability to destroy a planet was less useful once the galaxy had been brought to order. The Tarkin Doctrine was clear, by partitioning the galaxy into regions each controlled by their own Grand Moff, order would be maintained by preventing the consolidation of power. The Death Star was the very representation of the consolidation that Grand Moff Tarkin and Grand Admiral Thrawn disapproved of.”

Hux launched into a lecture detailing the Death Star’s failures. Its construction lasted too long, the seeds of rebellion weren’t taken seriously in the Core Worlds who chafed under their burden of no longer being special, the head engineer Galen Erso allowed to join that rebellion…

The others listened, entranced by the lecture. Hux could be a highly skilled and passionate orator when he chose to be. Even when dismantling one of the Empire’s greatest achievements he was riveting to listen to.

And then the lecture subtly changed as Hux began to reveal what he would do differently.

A head engineer who could be guaranteed loyal by being given full knowledge and control of the project, including the right to fire the weapon.

Begin construction long before the weapon was needed. Plan military action around the completion of the weapon instead of the other way around. Use any construction delays to instead expand the weapon’s supporting fleet.

Choose a much better target. Alderaan was one of humanity's first colonies and its loss galvanized rebellion against the Empire. Instead of destroying such a beloved yet distant target, destroy the Senate itself. The New Republic had already moved the Senate to the Mid Rim, Hosnian Prime had no history or importance aside from its current status. Nobody would lament its loss.

Discredit the living martyrs. Princess Leia Organa had been left alive and allowed to play the living martyr throughout the Rebellion and into the foundation of the New Republic. Her voice would be loud and practiced. That voice needed to be silenced before the weapon ever saw operation.

Yes, a weapon of such size and power could be used. But it needed to be used _correctly_. Anything else would be a waste.

One shot is all they would need.

TK-1959 watched as the other troopers all glanced back at each other and then back at Hux. He saw the same question in their eyes and it made him wonder.

What did Hux know?

More important, how many of Hux’s plans were already in motion?

*****

The next morning TK-1959 woke to a familiar crick in his neck. He popped his neck and realized he had to stop sleeping in his armor. If only this world allowed it.

They spent the day clearing the camp of encroaching vines, building temporary shelters, acquiring food, searching for a new water source, and in general preparing to explore the temple.

They spent the night talking again. 

TT-1098 came from a TIE cadre, she hadn’t even had the chance to begin her weapons quals when the orders to join the squad came down from Commandant Stiles. She wasn’t technically qualled in any weapon which was why she used the pistol. On the other hand she was fully qualled to fly any ship or speeder that didn’t have a weapon system. And now the Lambda shuttle as well.

TK-1959 qualled with the pistol on his first try. But he could never handle a weapon longer than that. He didn’t know how and all the stances he’d been taught felt wrong, like they were meant for taller Stormtroopers or longer arms or better humans. He tried to compensate, hitting every AR qual mark with the pistol, but his Sergeant was still disappointed in him. He was expected to wash out into some technical field, droid mechanic or console repair. It would have been humiliating. Knowing he was supposed to be a reject hurt but Hux never made him feel like one. Instead he felt like he mattered.

SK-0331 came from a fully qualled and outfitted riot squad. His squad had seen some minor action but mostly they pulled guard duty on the Star Destroyers. SK-1042 had been a good friend of his and then more. Much more. SK-0331 loved him but they never talked about it, not even after SK-0331 put in a transfer in order to remove himself from the squad. If they weren’t in the same squad it wouldn’t be a command issue and they wouldn’t have to hide anymore. He’d been open with his Lieutenant when putting in his transfer, admitted his reasoning for the record, a reasoning that SK-1042 officially denied. It led to… problems. First his transfer was denied. Then they were both disciplined. Then SK-1042 tried to end it between them. Then Hux happened. And suddenly SK-0331’s transfer was accepted, all but rushed through. His transfer to Hux’s command.

“I’m sorry,” Hux allowed.

“I wanted to kill you so much,” SK-0331 admitted. “Sometimes I… I still do.”

“I know.”

SK-0331 looked up in despair and shock. “I just said I still want to kill you! How can you be calm about this?!”

“I’m sure he means it,” RX-3081 warned.

“So did you when you tried to kill me,” Hux said.

Shock spread over the rest of the squad as they watched and listened. But Hux and RX-3081 were friendly, when had this happened?

“I had cause,” RX-3081 snapped.

“SK-0331 has cause. You had orders. I respect ‘cause’ more.”

SK-0331 joined in that shock as Hux defended him.

“It's been three years,” Hux said almost conversationally. “You always were terrified of me in the cadre. Of course you would be, I was the monster. You were supposed to be afraid of me. **I** am why cadres have monsters, to make me the inhuman exception. And I still bested all of you. I made you look like children.”

“With Grand Admiral Sloane wrapped around your little finger,” RX-3081 spat. “And your Commandant father--”

“You were ordered to kill me or die trying,” Hux said, keeping that careful conversational tone. “My father chose SK-1042 to die. SK-0331 was sent to die. My Commandant father used the injuries I gave you as I crushed your neck to argue against my commission. My name is an insult to him. My existence is infuriating to him. My fat pfassk of a father is no point in my favor or yours.”

Hux sat back and bared his teeth. “The reason you’re alive is my father had these removed when I was a child.” He tapped his titanium teeth. “I crushed your neck but I couldn’t rip it out. That weakness has been corrrrected. I regained these by the Sssupreme Leader'sss orderrr and I will neverrr again bare my throat to anyone who has not **earrrned** that.”

Hux huffed. It came out as a low yet unthreatening growl. “I know you want to kill me,” he said, his attention now on SK-0331. “I respect yourrrrreasons. Take that as the compliment it is, I don’t respect many people’s reasons for killing me. But you will not be the one to succeed. You could pull a blasterrrright now and you’d be dead before you could raise it.”

SK-0331 looked like he wanted to do just that. His hand drifted to the blaster on his hip, fingers twitching. He bit his lip, shaking with unshed tears.

“And you know that,” Hux whispered. "That's why you haven't."

SK-0331 shivered and slumped over. He wrapped his arms around himself and sobbed.

Hux got up and moved to the perimeter of the camp. He paced the edge of darkness, glowing eyes watching the night.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night for anyone.

*****

The next morning TK-1959 fastened his armor as they all prepared to explore the ruins. RX-3081 pulled him aside as Hux stretched like a Loth-cat, as FR-2116 paced the camp perimeter, as SK-0331 wrinkled his nose and bit into a roasted spider, as TT-1098 watched the sky for nonexistent ships.

“Hux got to him last night,” RX-3081 said, his voice low as he gestured to SK-0331.

“No kriff,” TK-1959 said, unable to stop the sarcasm.

“Not just that. I mean look at him. He was the only human left. And now…”

TK-1959 watched SK-0331 realize the spider didn’t taste offensive. He pulled the legs off and sucked the meat from them before peeling the spider's abdomen apart and slurping the innards like an oyster.

“He’s like us now,” RX-3081 whispered. “He’s changing.”

TK-1959 nodded. RX-3081 still saw them all as monsters, the hallucinations must not have stopped. That settled it, he needed to tell Hux. The captain needed to know.

TK-1959 caught up to Captain Hux at the entrance to the ruins. The curtain of spider’s web wafted undisturbed just inside the temple doorway. Instead he found Hux gazing up at one of the statues.

TK-1959 turned to look at the statue and it seemed so familiar. Great maw of jagged teeth in a large lupine snout. Triangular furry ears. Large paws with larger claws. Full mane of hair filling out the neck and extending down the back like a crest. Built like an akk dog.

Oh.

“Interesting hounds,” Hux mused.

TK-1959 shivered to hear Hux call them that. “I need to talk to you about something,” he said, voice low.

“About what?”

“RX-3081 has been hallucinating ever since the spider bite.”

Hux nodded. “I thought something was wrong,” he allowed. “He’s afraid of something and it’s not just me. What does he hallucinate?”

“Us,” TK-1959 said. “And these.”

Hux looked at him questioningly.

“He sees you as one of these ‘hounds’. And the rest of us are turning into them as well.”

“Transformation then,” Hux mused. “Slow or fast?”

“Slow. Apparently I’m almost fully changed. Everyone else is less far along. RX-3081 started to change when we saved his life. SK-0331 started to change last night.”

Hux didn’t say anything, instead running his hands over the upraised paws of one of the monsters that stood at the beginning of a leap. Their open maws were captured in mid-roar, their eyes wide with hunt-lust. Yet even though the two monsters faced each other they weren’t positioned to fight. Instead they stood flanking the entrance as some sort of… welcome? warning? If there were words chiseled into plinths like the Ancient Sith there might have been some clue as to why these particular monsters, but no such words revealed themselves.

Hux pulled the spare extended barrel of his sniper rifle and used it to press blindly through the webbing over the temple door. The webbing parted and he used the barrel to pull the webbing open like a curtain.

“We’ll need light,” TK-1959 said. At Hux’s deadpanned look he amended his statement. “I’ll need light, Sir.”

Hux handed TK-1959 the light from his own AR. TK-1959 held it along the sight of his pistol and activated it. He followed as Hux stepped inside.

The temple’s gloom parted to show stone walls draped with soft webbing like sheets meant to preserve the bulkheads of a scuttled ship. A single entry chamber with a vaulted ceiling led to a corridor that led further in, another sheet of web blocking that door like more curtains.

“More webbing, sir,” TK-1959 said aloud. “Draped over all the walls and the door to the next room.”

Hux drew the web sheets down to reveal the mosaics.

TK-1959 gasped as he saw the intricacy of the mosaics. Delicate stones of every color sat inset into the walls, brightening the room with their presence alone. Words carved in Sith, in Archaic Basic, in Chiss lined the vaulted ceiling, their meaning still readable despite the tiny spiders that nested in carven letters.

“The Trial of Endurance,” Hux read, pointing to the mosaic below the first words. The vast topaz desert stretched into the distance as people walked across it. Onyx bodies fell to thirst and hunger, to infighting as the strong culled and ate the weak.

“The Trial of Cunning,” TK-1959 read, pointing to the next one. The deep amethyst swamp separated into a twisting shining mica maze. Paths branched off of the maze, all of them ending in ruby serpent’s heads, all but one. From this one a single acolyte emerged as tiny iridescent opals watched in the lignite forest.

“The Trial of Fear,” Hux read, pointing to the third. The obsidian and opal body of the spider queen was unmistakable as she held the single surviving acolyte in her jaws, the silver wire tarnished black as it wrapped his onyx body. Below her watchful opal eyes the black-silver bundle lay on the ground until it burst its own bonds halfway between this mosaic and the next.

“Consecration,” TK-1959 read, pointing to the fourth. The acolyte bathed in a sapphire stream at the edge of emerald and jade jungle.

“The Trial of Purification,” Hux corrected. “See the Cheunh prefix _lishe’_.”

TK-1959 nodded but he didn’t know any of the Chiss languages. He followed the mosaic to its conclusion as the acolyte stood on the banks of the stream and howled at the ruby red moon, its onyx figure twisted into opalescent…

What.

Hux also paused at this final panel of the mosaic as the bejeweled acolyte within had changed to one of the monsters outside.

Hux glanced at TK-1959 then back at the mosaic. “Hallucinations,” he mused. "Twisted by the nature of this place. Nothing more." He stopped before the corridor to the next room and drew the curtain of webbing aside to a stone corridor not more than four meters long with another curtain beyond that.

TK-1959 followed him into a corridor that stretched into infinity.

Mirrored walls duplicated both TK-1959 and Captain Hux on both sides. Blackness above and below gave them the illusion of walking through another dimension, no up or down, no forward or back, only the infinite themselves stretching off into forever.

TK-1959 glanced at Captain Hux for guidance only to see him as entranced by the images. TK-1959 raised a hand, reaching out for his infinite reflections as they all reached out for him, wondering what could make such perfect reflections.

“Don’t touch the walls,” Hux warned. His wide eyes glowed iridescent in the darkness, as bright as the opals of the mosaic spiders. 

TK-1959 stopped, hand so close to the surface of the reflections. He pulled it away and his reflections all paused, all looking at Hux.

“We don’t know what these mirrors are constructed of,” Hux said. “It’s too perfect to be glass. It doesn’t smell like mercury. If it’s advanced nanotech we shouldn’t touch it.”

“This is a Sith temple,” TK-1959 mused. “Could this be some kind of Force thing?”

“That's even more reason not to touch it. I doubt either of us has any real awareness in the Force.”

TK-1959 nodded and pulled away from the reflections. He tried to tread between the two but he couldn’t see the floor anymore. Even the AR lamp didn’t show him the floor, its light absorbed by the inky smooth blackness below them. The ceiling was no different, an eternal darkness sucking away any light he shone up at it. His eyes trailed back to the reflections because at least those made sense. He understood mirrors.

He thought he understood mirrors. He didn’t understand why his reflections all held lamps that were turned off. Nor did he understand why the reflections further toward infinity seemed… different.

He watched as that difference seemed to ripple through infinity, his own images changing as they all approached. Eyes turned green with nightshine, ears grew pointed and furry, they grinned with a maw full of sharp teeth. Then each one stepped into the next image, changing it, then stepping forward in an ever increasing wave of monsters that approached faster and faster and--

Hux grabbed his wrists and yanked him forward, away from the hounds that lunged through the mirrors at him.

The AR lamp rolled along the stone floor of the next room, its light shining in the inner chamber.

“You froze,” Hux observed.

TK-1959 stared into the corridor with its bare stone walls and ordinary stone floor. “Sorry sir,” he said on instinct. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the corridor and its gentle waving curtain of webbing on the far end. Daylight pierced from outside, bright glances of sky that stabbed the eyes in the temple’s inner darkness. There was no sign of the reflections that had all changed before him, the infinite images all twisting into hounds that jumped the universes one by one, charging him with the speed of nightmare. He’d stood there and let them come, he would have let them tear him apart and he wouldn’t have noticed.

Or would they? Every other reflection reveled in the change that took them, their expressions twisting to pure feral joy as they were transformed and then jumped forward to claim the next and the next and the next.

He shivered.

Hux snorting and snarling behind him drew him from his thoughts. Hux growled and tore at the webbing curtain that entrapped him, the curtain that once separated this inner chamber from the corridor. Hux must have dove through it to avoid whatever the mirrors had shown him.

“What did you see in the mirrors?” TK-1959 asked.

Hux murred from beneath his gray shroud.

TK-1959 got to his feet and started pulling strips and strands of silk off of his captain. Silk stuck to his gloves but he could run them through the fire later. Hux pulled the webbing from his face, coughing and spitting and shaking in disgust. Finally he exhaled in a long growl that ended in a quiet shudder, an attempt at a comforting purr that went nowhere.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hux said.

“You saw the same monsters I did,” TK-1959 predicted. “The same ones outside. The same ones RX-3081 sees. All your reflections changed and tried to make you join them.”

Hux fixed TK-1959 with a glare.

“I saw that too,” TK-1959 admitted.

Hux looked away even as he pulled absently at the webbing still confining him.

TK-1959 picked up his discarded AR lamp and his pistol. He holstered the pistol and raised the lamp to the room.

He didn’t like this chamber. The floor sloped downward to the middle where a ring of dried filth betrayed this planet’s lack of recent rainfall. The walls were covered in writing from dozens of hands, in multiple languages, all draped in the omnipresent silk. A skeleton lay in a corner as far from the outside light as possible, curled in agonized death. Spider webs entombed the bones, shrouding them from the scrutiny of the AR lamp, but from what TK-1959 could see they appeared to be the remains of some sort of humanoid canid. 

“The walls are covered in webbing here too,” TK-1959 warned. “And the skeleton.”

Hux reached out with his gloved hands, swiping at them all like he no longer cared about keeping the silk off of him. It drifted gracefully down over him, eliciting a long murr of frustration as he found himself entrapped by sheets he couldn’t quite see.

“Captain…” TK-1959 couldn’t keep the dread out of his voice as he saw it.

Hux snarled. “Is it going to kill us, trooper?!”

“It’s another mosaic.”

Hux growled.

TK-1959 pulled his eyes away from the mosaic and tore the webbing from Hux’s head. It cleared his face enough to breathe and see even as Hux snapped at him in irritation.

Then he saw the mosaic too. “Ah…”

A faint seam in the unblemished stone wall betrayed the location of the temple’s treasure. Around that seam a pair of monstrous hounds circled, paused in their endless pacing as they guarded the temple’s innermost secret. Shining onyx and pale topaz, clear alabaster and red ruby, spots of chocolate diamonds and eyes of iridescent opal.

“The Force is capable of twisting the thoughts and memories of anyone,” Hux allowed, though even he sounded unsure. 

“I’m not sensitive to the Force,” TK-1959 said, his own mind refusing such an easily dismissive explanation. “I’ve never been touched by it.”

“I’m not sensitive but I’ve been touched by it,” Hux allowed, his voice oddly subdued. “Not by my own volition, but I have experienced it. It can make you see things that aren’t there, twist your own thoughts, force you to remember things you’d rather forget.”

“It’s just dreams,” TK-1959 pleaded, though with whom he had no idea. “I didn’t start dreaming us like this until after RX-3081 described it. It’s not real. This can’t be real.”

“Are we sure he’s hallucinating?”

TK-1959 did not like the dread that pooled in his belly. “It can’t be real.”

Hux pushed at the seam in the wall. Despite the visible seam the wall felt solid. Nothing budged.

TK-1959 backed away from the wall, his feet pulling him to the center of the room and its stained depression. He sank to his knees then sat down in the middle, not noticing that any water in the room would have puddled around him. The hounds leered down at him from this angle, their eyes glittering, their crests of onyx and ruby fur rustling in the hint of a breeze that blew in from the entrance. They beckoned...

“You guys okay in there?!”

TK-1959 barely heard TT-1098’s voice from outside.

“We’re fine, don’t come in,” Hux called. “There’s a mental test in the corridor and I don’t want anyone getting caught in the backlash.”

“Weird Force stuff?” TT-1098 called.

“Something like that. The antechamber should be safe, see if you can get a rope tossed through the corridor to us.”

“Will do.” Footsteps faded as she left to get a rope.

TK-1959 felt a strange lightheadedness overtake him as he gazed up at the mosaics. Opal teeth shone in the darkness as bright as their eyes. One gleamed in smoky topaz, its onyx mane clustered around its head and falling down its shoulders. Its long pointed ears tipped in onyx swiveled as it listened. The other curled with alabaster skin and tarnished silver teeth, its ruby crest trailing down its entire spine. Rubies and chocolate diamonds dotted its spine and neck, shoulders and hips, in a pattern that he’d grown used to seeing. There was no way to duplicate that. This had to be real. But it couldn’t possibly be real. Then was he hallucinating as well? Was he going insane?

What happened if he just accepted it? Would every dream and vision and reflection come true? Would he change into this thing? He snorted at the absurdity. He certainly wouldn’t be a Stormtrooper anymore in that case. There’d be no way to fit into the armor! And those paws couldn’t hold a blaster. The image was so ridiculous that he found himself laughing hysterically.

The slap knocked him on his side.

“Pull yourself together,” Hux snapped.

TK-1959 lay sprawled on the filthy stone floor, Hux kneeling over him. His eyes shone like opals, his teeth bared as he growled low in warning. TK-1959 blinked up at him, unsure exactly what Hux looked like anymore. Were those titanium teeth bared from a human mouth or a spotted snout? TK-1959 didn’t know anymore nor did he find he cared. Hands like great paws pressed on his shoulders, pulling, pushing, neither? So much red hair…

“TK-1959. Mitaka! Can you hear me!”

The great spotted hound leaning over him growled in concern, its ears flat against its skull. Fear stained those shining green eyes and Mitaka wanted nothing more than to make that fear fade away. He leaned back, baring his neck.

He felt teeth close over his throat and his vision went black.


	11. The Temple's Prize

Thundering paws gripped the jungle floor at each pound of his feet as he ran. The night parted, no secrets left to the darkness that dripped from the leaves above and curled underneath the webbed shelters of the Temple Spiders. He heard the others around him, snorts and snarls and howls as they all chased their quarry away from the Sacred Temple and its innermost secrets.

Frantic breathing and pleading whimpers betrayed their prey, the long legged biped that scrambled over dead trees and barreled through spider’s nets. It ran from them, fleeing from its rightful fate. Such flight must be punished. The worthy came to give themselves to the Sacred Temple, the unworthy came to steal secrets. Those secrets would never be known, could never be stolen, so long as there were hounds to guard it.

He vaulted a felled tree to see the bright red of his quarry. He howled his triumph as he lunged, dragging the biped down to the jungle floor.

The biped pulled long knives that slashed, snarling with teeth like his own. He snarled back, circling the intruder, the traitor, the thief. The thief! This thief enclosed in a gray breastplate, armed with far too many knives, with eyes that shone like his, with his mane of shocking red hair.

He stood alone against the thief, as it should be. He roared and charged, leaping to knock it down.

It grabbed him by the neck and slammed him down to the jungle floor. He snarled, teeth bared in warning, in a refusal to submit.

His fiery prey looked… disappointed? What?

Captain Hux grabbed his snout and angled it down where he couldn’t bite. He whimpered but Hux didn’t let go.

“Come back to us, Mitaka,” Hux ordered. “Wake up.”

TK-1959 opened his eyes.

“Hey he’s awake,” FN-2304 called. He leaned over TK-1959 and held up one hand in a rude gesture. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

TK-1959 scowled and batted the hand away. His expression changed to confused wonder as he caught sight of his own hand, his human hand, and had to stare at it. He brought both hands up to look at them then sat up.

Someone had removed his armor and the chestpiece of his underarmor. He wore his undershirt and his leg underarmor and little else. Even his boots were missing. But none of that was important. What was important was the completely ordinary human body he found. He ran his hands over clothing and skin, the feeling of jungle loam under his paws still fresh in his mind.

“What… happened?” he asked. He blinked at his surroundings, the sparse camp and the cooking fire in the middle. Praxis’s sun hung low near the southern horizon, it was still morning. A cube of water sat simmering in the coals, though that wasn’t water inside it anymore. Spider legs bubbled inside the cube along with a few shreds of plant matter and bits of animal flesh like some attempt at a communal soup pot. RX-3081 dropped items into the cube to simmer while too many of the others all busied themselves with nothing in particular to prevent themselves from watching TK-1959.

“Captain Hux carried you out of the temple a couple of days ago,” FN-2304 said. “What do you remember?”

TK-1959 vividly remembered the mirrored corridor and the clear images of himself and Hux guarding a door in the temple wall. He described what he could, watching his hands as FN-2304 nodded appropriately and didn’t immediately call him crazy.

“You don’t remember screaming and flailing for a whole night,” FN-2304 said, his concern seeping through his deadpanned statements. “Snarling like an animal. Trying to fight us. Howling at the red moon.”

“I did all that?” TK-1959 sounded more shocked than he felt. To be honest he didn’t feel much of anything. He felt numb, detached, like none of this was real.

“It was real lucky you and the captain were practically cocooned in all that web from the temple by the time he carried you out,” FN-2304 said conversationally, his voice a little too neutral. “We were able to tie you up in strands of it to keep you from… whatever you were trying to do. Not sure how we’re going to get it out of your armor.”

Footsteps approached and TK-1959 heard Captain Hux behind him. “The temple is having unexpected and unwanted effects on us,” Hux said. “All of us. I believe we’re all hallucinating at this point.”

“How can you tell?” FN-2304 asked.

“How can any of us tell?” TK-1959 asked. He turned around to face Hux and gasped at what he saw. Hux looked terrible, his own armor and the jacket of his uniform gone leaving only his undershirt and uniform pants. His red hair truly looked like the hound’s mane, it mingled freely with gray silk strands and seemed to trail down his back in the hound’s crest. Wiry muscles worked under thin shoulders, his spots painting faint patterns under too-pale skin that burned pink in the sunlight. Shadows under his eyes betrayed his own lack of sleep. The knife sheaths on his wrists sat empty, the blades themselves lost on the path to the temple along with all of their helmets and various plates of Stormtrooper armor.

“We have the temple set up so it can be entered safely,” FN-2304 said. “Just grab the rope, close your eyes, and follow it in. Don’t let go and don’t open your eyes until you reach the end of the line. The inner sanctum of the temple has… odd murals.”

“Yes, I saw them,” TK-1959 said. “Two of the monstrous hounds circled around a seam in the wall.”

“Almost,” Hux allowed. “There are as many hounds on the wall as there are people in the room. Anyone who looks at that wall sees themself leering back.”

“We’re hallucinating gemstone mosaics?” TK-1959 asked.

“They look like what to you?” FN-2304 asked. “They’re painted murals to my eyes.”

“They look different to everyone,” Hux revealed. “Even the ones in the antechamber. You see mosaics, I see filigreed stanzas of Cheunh poetry. FN-2304 sees painted murals. TT-1098 sees bas reliefs. SK-0331 said it looked like a flat holoprojection against a screen. I don’t believe there’s anything in this temple.”

“There’s something,” TK-1959 said, remembering.

“Even if there was, we can’t access what we can’t see,” Hux said.

“No, there’s something there. I know where it is.”

*****

After a breakfast from the communal soup cube Hux and FN-2304 followed TK-1959 back to the temple. The gem mosaics glittered in the sunlight that streamed from outside. TK-1959 could feel the stones embedded in the wall as he ran his bare fingers along the onyx figures. But according to the others they weren’t really here. 

It wasn’t his imagination, Hux had assured them all. It must be caused by the Force. The Force in this place must be twisted and therefore capable of twisting them all in turn. That’s why the dreams. That’s why RX-3081’s hallucinations. That’s why the images in the temple. That’s why the disparate images that each of them experienced alone all matched a single coherent narrative.

The Force could do this. His history classes spoke of Jedi doing such things with the Force, twisting their enemies and their allies into becoming more, or more often becoming less. Minds altered, bodies twisted, feelings implanted, memories erased. Entire battles won and lost by the strength of a single Master who plucked the strings of the Force to influence an entire fleet, controlling every ship and every weapon like a grand symphony. Armies dancing to the strings of one master puppeteer in the Force. It was no stretch to assume a temple to the Ancient Sith was capable of twisting the minds of a single small squad of Stormtroopers.

TK-1959 was beginning to believe his lessons. This must be some residual twist in the Force itself, like an impact crater left in a flat plain a million years after the meteor strike. Like a tear in the fabric of space-time where a black hole sat invisible and dangerous, revealing itself only by feeding upon the unwary.

No longer were they unwary.

“The temple must have shown me,” TK-1959 explained as the three of them looked down the deceptive corridor. The ropes were affixed to pikes in the floor on both sides, knots tied to mark each meter of length. Four knots lay on the stone floor of that corridor.

“How so?”

“I had a…” TK-1959 blushed and looked down. It seemed so foolish to bring them all back in here for a dream but he couldn’t help what he felt. “It was a dream, sir. Another one. But not just a dream. I know what happens to us if we stay here.”

“I assume we all go mad,” FN-2304 said.

“We will physically turn into the hounds we see,” TK-1959 revealed. “The temple used to have hounds to guard its secrets but people stopped coming. Now it can have them again and it wants us. It plans on keeping us. I dreamed it had succeeded and we all knew the temple’s secrets. I remember where the temple keeps those secrets.”

“The murals are guarding a secret compartment, we know,” FN-2304 drawled.

“We can’t be sure it’s really there,” Hux warned.

“I remember how to open it,” TK-1959 added.

FN-2304 looked to Hux for guidance. Hux sighed and nodded. “Fine,” he allowed. “We have one chance to retrieve whatever’s there. If we fail we don’t try again.”

TK-1959 nodded, a pleased grin spreading across his face. He knew they could do this. 

Then why did he have a bad feeling about it?

Hux grabbed the rope and closed his eyes. He followed the knotted rope through the corridor to the other end and opened his eyes, their nightshine gleaming in the darkness.

“Just like that,” FN-2304 said, pushing TK-1959 forward.

TK-1959 grabbed the knotted rope and looked down the stone corridor. It looked so innocuous but he remembered the infinite reflections and how they reached for him as they changed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He followed the rope, running his bare hands along the rough spun polymer. He felt the first knot and continued. The second. Three short steps between each knot, he could do this. All he had to do was keep his eyes closed. Three steps, then four steps, five steps, six, then the third knot. Was the rope getting longer? There couldn’t be six steps to a meter, that wasn’t possible. He wanted to open his eyes. He could feel the reflections reaching for him, hands and paws and hot breath on both sides of him. 

Voices calling to him, telling him to stay, telling him to keep going, telling him to open his eyes. He kept walking but the rope must be getting longer, so much longer than a meter between knots. Six, seven, eight, nine steps, he finally reached the fourth knot. Just a little further and he could open his eyes.

Hands against his shoulders and it was over. Hux’s iridescent eyes bored into TK-1959’s own, searching for something.

“I’m fine,” TK-1959 said. He was, he really was. He made it through the corridor without opening his eyes, he hadn’t seen the reflections as they clung to him, tugged at him, scratched at him. That was what mattered. He’d made it.

FN-2304 came through and opened his eyes only to glare at TK-1959. “Should have left you outside,” he warned. “This place is getting to you most of all.”

“RX-3081 said you’d changed the most,” Hux warned.

“And he said you weren’t human at all,” TK-1959 defended.

Hux scoffed. “RX-3081 decided I wasn’t human the day I met him.”

“You said the temple is trying to make us change physically,” FN-2304 said accusingly. “How do we know that’s not your plan right now?”

“I… don’t know…” TK-1959 found he didn’t have an answer to that.

“2304, stop it,” Hux ordered.

FN-2304 huffed and pulled his AR lamp from his belt. He pressed the switch and brought it to the wall.

“What do you see?” Hux asked.

Alabaster and ruby with chocolate diamond spots. Onyx and pale smoky topaz. Both were maddeningly familiar now. But the brown tourmaline hound with the snowflake obsidian mane was new. That must be what FN-2304 would become if the temple had its way. All of their opal eyes seemed to gaze down at them, inviting, daring, challenging. The alabaster hound even had tarnished silver teeth. TK-1959 described it all, how all three hounds were paused in their pacing around the seam in the wall, two below and one above. FN-2304 curled around the apex nearly ten feet above them while Hux and TK-1959 lurked below.

FN-2304 saw the same placement but he described a stylized mural, each hair lovingly drawn with all the intensity of a varactyl’s feathers. What seemed to strike him most was the depth of expression of each of the hounds, their mouths open in glorious smiles as they tempted him to join them.

“What do you see?” TK-1959 asked.

“The end of free will,” Hux mused. “Spirals of poetry full of pretty little lies. Empty promises leading to a life of servitude, bowing and howling and rutting and dying at the whims of something that can’t even think for itself. Running in circles to the tune of wordless soundless music bayed to the red moon.”

TK-1959 shivered.

“You said you know how to get into the compartment,” Hux said, breaking his own spell.

“I think so,” TK-1959 said. “If we each touch our own counterpart the compartment will open and we can access what’s inside.”

“Simple enough,” FN-2304 agreed. “I’ll need a boost.”

“This is a bad idea,” Hux realized.

“How so?” FN-2304 asked.

Hux ran his fingers over the wall, not quite touching, as he followed words only he could see. TK-1959 watched as his own counterpart twitched and topaz shifted, the hound moving under Hux’s gaze. By FN-2304’s gasp he saw it too, the mural reacting to Hux’s presence.

“The temple will attempt to claim us that way,” Hux paraphrased. “It’ll believe we’re giving ourselves over to it and begin to take what it wants. We won’t have long to access whatever’s inside. Worse, the compartment will close if any of us removes our hands.”

“Oh, is that all?” FN-2304 demanded.

“‘Take thy true self in both hands’,” Hux said, translating directly. “‘Thy selves given to thy master in true contrition brings upon to thee thy prize. Yea, to take thy self in one hand betrays cowardice and thy prize withdrawn.’” He scowled as he looked at the position of the hounds on the wall. “FN-2304, how good are you at manipulating objects with your feet?”

“Not good.”

Hux’s scowl deepened. “We could leave then come back,” he suggested. “I’m the most likely candidate, it would be easiest if we could return when all of this has changed position.” He gestured to the wall.

TK-1959 watched as the hounds all shifted of their own free will, twitching and stamping. He got an idea and slammed both hands onto his own hound’s image.

“Wait, no!” Hux ordered.

TK-1959 felt skin and fur and gems and stabbing onyx shards under his bare hands as he slid the images along the wall, as the hounds themselves walked in a circle until the alabaster hound stood at the apex. He pulled away with effort and realized he shook with exertion. Or was it elation? He didn’t know.

And then the room blurred as Hux slammed him into the opposite wall. A low growl betrayed the depth of Hux’s displeasure. “That wasss… a dangerousss gamble,” Hux growled.

“Hux, back down, it worked and 1959 hasn’t turned into anything,” FN-2304 said. "He's fine. We're all fine."

“I’m sorry, sir,” TK-1959 whispered. “I just knew it would work.”

“How did you know?” Hux demanded.

“I-I just knew. I don’t know how. The idea just came to me.”

Hux’s breath came hot against his ear and TK-1959 shivered. “We arrre in a temple controlled by the Forssse and you’rrre trusssting ideasss that jussst ‘come to you’,” Hux growled. “Do you sssee why that’sss dangeroussss?”

TK-1959 nodded.

Hux murred in frustration. He pulled away only reluctantly, exhaustion clearly written on his face. “No sssingle event makesss thissss a dangeroussss plassse,” he said, sibilants stretched as though his words were caught on his own teeth. “But all of them together paintsss a picture. Thisss isss the mossst danger any of you have ever been in.”

“But not you?” FN-2304 asked.

“It’sss closssse,” Hux admitted. He took a deep breath and pulled away. When he spoke again he had more control over his voice. “The danger of this place isn’t physical. It’s mental. It’s emotional. This place makes promises, lulls you into staying, then it takes away anything that makes you who you were. It strips you of your own self and leaves you little better than the spiders outside. A servant of something unthinking, unyielding, a blind idiot god that twirls to the tune of your own mindless howls. I wonder…” He shook his head. “No. If the Supreme Leader himself hadn’t sent us on this mission I’d wonder if this weren’t another attempt to get rid of us all.”

“What if it’s to make us stronger?” FN-2304 asked.

Hux blinked at FN-2304, clearly expecting him to continue.

“If we can survive this with our minds intact, if we can stare into the Dark Side itself and make it blink first, isn’t that a feat of strength? If we come out of this alive, ourselves, and with this temple’s prize, isn’t that a battle worth winning? We face physical danger all the time. We’ll always face it. We’ll get bored of it. But this? Daring the Force itself to steal our minds and then denying it the right? Besting a power of nature as omnipresent as physics?”

“That sounds like a mission worth completing,” TK-1959 agreed.

Hux’s expression turned contemplative. It stayed that way even as he began to purr in agreement. 

They could do this.

It was decided that Hux would stand on both trooper’s shoulders. He needed his feet bare in order to manipulate whatever might be inside the compartment and would rely on those same troopers to relay information to him. With any luck he’d be able to pull anything valuable out of the compartment and they would all let go before the temple completed anyone’s transformation. Hopefully before such transformation even began.

TK-1959 boosted Hux to his shoulders and invited FN-2304 to stand close to spread Hux’s weight between them.

“You don’t weigh much,” TK-1959 commented.

Hux growled low in warning.

“He means you’re very lean and lithe,” FN-2304 amended.

Hux murred but seemed to accept the change of statement.

FN-2304 gave TK-1959 a glare. Never comment on Hux’s weight then. Okay.

They stepped close to the wall, each man facing down the representation of their own hound. Opal eyes blinked lazily and smiled, the painted mural lolled its tongue playfully, poetry spoke of long summer nights spent lying in the swamp under the red moonlight.

“Three,” Hux counted down. “Two. One.”

Each man laid their hands upon themselves.

TK-1959 felt his hands descend into soft fur, slide around the living flanks of an animal as smoky topaz climbed his arms. His own skin shone as the hound pulled away from the wall, its jeweled snout nudging his own. Opal eyes gazed into his own and onyx gums pulled back to reveal alabaster teeth and a ruby tongue. It licked a trail of sapphire along his skin then continued to pull away from the wall, climbing into him.

He looked up and the dark room wasn’t dark anymore. He could see. He could see everything.

He saw tiny letters like spots crawling up Hux’s arms and merging with the spots patterned on his face and neck. Hux shook his head, trying to keep the feeling of letters off of him as he fished a bare foot into a hole in the wall.

That was new. TK-1959 looked inside that hole and saw the crystalline pyramid within. The temple’s secrets.

“Hurry up, we’re losing Mitaka,” FN-2304 called. “He’s got eyes like yours!”

“I’m hurrying,” Hux growled, trying to resist and grab at the same time.

He saw the bright colors and sharp lines of the mural that FN-2304 became. His paws lay flat against the wall, claws splayed in fear, the color creeping up his own arms. He shook as well, flinging color off of his face like wet paint even as it tried to draw his snout.

“Got it!” Hux pulled his foot out of the wall and brought with it the crystal pyramid.

TK-1959 growled low in warning as the thief stole the Sacred Temple’s secrets. Unworthy, the both of them, they rejected the Temple’s promised gift! Traitors! How dare they betray him like this!

The crystal pyramid slowly tumbled down toward the ground. FN-2304 let go of the wall and darted down to grab it.

TK-1959 snarled in challenge. How dare they!

Hux’s answering snarl was all the warning he got as Hux dropped onto him, titanium teeth bared.

FN-2304 grabbed the pyramid and--

Everything… _changed_.

Sunlight streamed down at the three of them as the illusion of the temple broke. The ruined temple stood with no ceilings, with crumbled walls, with no features left to identify it. Outside the statues of ancient Sith lay in crumbled ruin, lost to the ravages of time and erosion. Even the path that they’d followed to get here disappeared, leaving nothing but solid jungle where a gentle avenue of flagstones and weeds once stretched.

“The kriff was that?” SK-0331 shouted from across the ruins. “What just happened!”

TK-1959 gasped as he felt titanium teeth on his neck, sharp edges that threatened to bite down if he moved wrong. Hux growled low in warning. TK-1959 leaned back, baring his neck for Hux’s access, trying to prove he wasn’t going to attack. Hux murred in warning before pulling off.

With his neck free TK-1959 could get a look down at himself. He was… human. He was human! The hound hadn’t taken him! As close as he’d come to giving in he hadn’t! He started laughing on the floor of the ruins, the same empty pointless rotted ruins he’d seen on sensor scans three weeks prior.

They’d won.

They were safe now.

*****

Three weeks and two days after crash landing in a Lambda shuttle over 200 kilometers distant, SK-0331 shouted the alarm. A ship approached.

The _Oubliette_ -class transport trailed a thin line of smoke that had TT-1098 scowling up at the matte black hulk. It circled the ruins before setting down on a flat area broken by ancient crumbled flagstones and curling vines. Vines burned under the ship’s overclocked engines, smoke wafting up from the smoldering foliage.

“Pack up,” Hux shouted. “Our ride’s here.”

The transport’s main loading ramp descended. Two men in black cloaks, black masks, and black armor flanked a man in a featureless durasteel mask. He wore pants and boots and a cloak that did nothing to cover the multitude of scars that had all but replaced this man’s skin.

TK-1959 fastened the few armor plates he’d managed to find. At least he had his boots. And one pauldron. And his belt. His breastplate was elsewhere, likely the same place as his chest underarmor and everyone’s helmets: lost and about to be left behind. The only thing everyone absolutely had were their blasters, depleted as they were.

The man in the blank mask seemed to gaze out at everyone though TK-1959 had no idea how. Maybe the mask had sensors inside it? But sensors wouldn’t explain the strange weight he felt when the man seemed to look right through him.

RX-3081 strapped on his own breastplate, the giant gouges of the spider queen’s fangs still dented the white duraplast. SK-0331 couldn’t find his belt. TT-1098 tossed one gauntlet away as it had a spider nesting inside it. 

“I was told to expect Stormtroopers,” said the man in the mask.

“We had to walk,” Hux explained. “I’m sure you saw the crash site down in the desert. That and the spiders.”

“And the shadows,” said one of the men in black. “This place is full of the Shadow.”

“You were drawn to this place, you must have been,” said the other man in black.

“Your own shadows are faint,” said the man in the mask. “But I see them all. I was told to expect Stormtroopers. I did not expect to find this.” He gestured out to the squad who had assembled enough of their gear to feel comfortable. He reached up and removed his helm, revealing pale blue eyes with pupils that did not react to light. Despite his apparent blindness he looked over each Stormtrooper in turn before turning his oppressive gaze toward Captain Hux.

“I am Ren,” said the blind man. “These are two of my Knights, you may call them Ren.”

“You have my gratitude, Ren,” Hux said with a polite bow. “May we board and flee this wretched planet or would you like to take the opportunity to explore it yourself?”

Ren’s gaze fell on Hux’s pack where TK-1959 knew the strange pyramidal crystal from the ruin lay hidden away.

“You already carry the temple’s secret,” Ren said. “You have all paid the temple’s demanded price for that treasure. There is nothing for us here. You may board.”

“What price?” TT-1098 asked.

The black-clad Rens looked at their leader Ren and whispered through their masks. Ren nodded and drew his own helm over his face. The blank durasteel was somehow less unnerving than his piercing yet sightless eyes. 

“What price?” SK-0331 demanded.

“We all stopped hallucinating, right?” RX-3081 asked, nervousness clear in his voice. “We’re not now hallucinating that all we’re still human, are we?”

TK-1959 did not like Ren’s laugh. He did not like it at all.


	12. Hounds of the First Order

The _Night Buzzard_ was about what TK-1959 expected from a mercenary ship. The living quarters were sparse, one of the Rens had a portable forge set up, the engines spat noxious fumes into the engine room, the fresher’s sonic bidet didn’t work, their single pilot kicked them all out of the cockpit, and Hux had banned them all from even thinking of a shower before inspection on the _Locutor_. The Rens all wore full helms and mismatched black armor and wielded a variety of weapons save for their leader Ren who wore no armor and wielded a pale red lightsabre.

The ship shuddered as the pilot Ren pushed the ship into hyperspace. A mechanic Ren came out of the engine room, fumes curling from their armor. Other Rens lounged on the main deck of the ship with most of the squad. RX-3081 kept trying to introduce himself and the squad by their designation numbers. The Rens watched, their helmed heads cocked in thought, before pointing to each trooper in turn and naming them all ‘Stormtrooper’.

“Don’t you have names?” RX-3081 demanded, trying again.

A Ren in a deathmask nodded. “Ren,” they said, introducing themself with a faint bow.

“How do you tell each other apart?” SK-0331 asked.

“Our weapons are ourselves,” said a Ren in a mask with a silver tarnished grille over their face. “We are all Ren.”

“Do your weapons have names then?” FR-2116 asked.

“Yes,” said a Ren in a black muzzle-like mask. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” SK-0331 crowed. “May we know those names so we can tell you apart?”

“No,” said the deathmask Ren. “You don’t know us, we don’t know you.”

“You are Stormtroopers,” said the muzzled Ren. “We are Ren. That is all either of us has earned from the other.”

“Wait, we have to earn the right to know your names?” RX-3081 asked.

“Yes,” said the deathmask Ren.

“This is gonna be a long trip,” FR-2116 said.

TK-1959 followed the attempt at name-gathering only absently. His attention and TT-1098’s instead turned to Captain Hux and the leader Ren as they spoke in a corner, seated around a dejarik table. Hux held his pack close to his chest, the temple’s treasure protected inside.

“They are all human,” Hux said. “I’m Arkanan.”

“You’re human-shaped,” Ren said, musing. His mask was off, his blank blind eyes gazing into nothing. “All of you.”

“Generally, yes,” Hux said.

“And you’ve never been anything other than human-shaped.”

Hux growled. “Why is that hard to believe?”

“Because you sound like that, for one,” Ren said deadpanned.

“He’s always sounded like that,” TK-1959 said. “He still looks human enough. He just has sharp teeth and night-eyes and sounds like that.”

“And you’re sure you’re all human shaped,” Ren said.

“Yes!” Hux insisted. “Again, why is this so hard to believe?! I could accept it if you only had doubts about me but you’re questioning their humanity as well! They are all human and they always have been!”

“I question it because your shadows are not human,” Ren said.

Hux growled low and frustrated. “Our shadows.”

“Yes. Everything living and dead, light and dark, corporeal and non, has a shadow. None of your shadows are human-shaped.”

TK-1959 held his hand up to the wall, letting the artificial lighting of the ship cast a shadow against the wall. It looked like a hand. TT-1098 scowled and made shadow puppets against another wall, two fingers raised like the ears of a fluff-tail rabbit. It looked like a shadow puppet of a fluff-tail rabbit.

“Our shadows are normal,” TK-1959 reported.

“Not the shadows caused by blocked light,” Ren said, scowling. “I don’t care about your visible shadows. That’s not what I see. I will never see your physicalities, but I do see your presence as you move through the Shadow.”

“Are you seeing us... through the Force?” TT-1098 asked.

“Yes.”

“And in the Force we look like something different,” RX-3081 said, his tone carefully neutral.

TK-1959 realized that both squads, Stormtroopers and Rens, had abandoned their own conversations and instead began to cluster around Hux and Ren.

“What do we look like?” TK-1959 asked.

Ren stared at him with his sightless eyes and grinned. That grin became a few chuckles of dark laughter. “I think you know.”

“We don’t,” said the deathmask Ren. “They all look like Stormtroopers.”

“Except that one,” said the muzzled Ren, pointing to Hux. “He looks like a murderer.”

Hux purred in assent.

“The description pleases you,” the leader Ren observed. “It makes you feel powerful.” He nodded and relaxed, leaning back into his seat. “I can appreciate a murderer. You take the opportunities presented to you, regardless of the small lives that get in your way. I’d have thought the First Order wrapped up too tightly in itself to allow a murderer to take those opportunities.”

“Opportunities arise,” Hux allowed. “When they don’t, I know how to create them.”

TK-1959 stepped back and allowed the others to listen in as he pushed past the chaotic mess of the mercenary spacecraft to the fresher. He grabbed the sink with both hands and gazed into the cracked and frosted mirror. A human stared back at him. His human hands gripped the scratched and pitted durasteel sink. His human eyes squinted in the half-lit refresher and his human nose wrinkled at the smell of the overworked unit.

He was human. The other Knights of Ren thought he looked like a human. Only this blind man seemed to think any different. This blind man who couldn’t possibly know what they’d just gone through. Who didn’t even know enough about the Force to call it that. Who couldn’t possibly see them.

Ren’s words meant nothing. The monsters of Praxis were gone. They escaped.

It was over.

*****

The Star Destroyer _Locutor_ hung at a rendezvous point and it was the most beautiful ship TK-1959 had ever seen. Her sleek pale durasteel reflected the light of distant stars, offering an ethereal glow to the ghostly ship. Her bridge stood proud above the great chevron of her bulk. Best of all her hangar doors stood open and welcoming, the blue glow of the forcefield keeping her atmosphere inside. He pushed past the others to catch a glimpse of such a beautiful ship, all of them fighting to see in the small cockpit.

A glimpse was all he caught as the pilot Ren shoved everyone back onto the main deck and slammed the cockpit door.

No matter. They were home.

Stormtroopers packed up their things and assembled what little armor they had while Hux watched and the leader Ren stood aside. 

“If you’re all going to smell like this next time I’ll have to insist on hazard pay,” Ren said.

“Next time?”

“Snoke mentioned there would be other missions.” Ren smirked as he pulled on his blank mask, disappearing behind the red swirl that was its only decoration.

The ship lurched as it touched down and internal gravity and the inertial dampers synced with the Star Destroyer’s own systems. The ramp descended.

“In that case, I look forward to working with you again,” Hux said with a veneer of civility. Ren huffed in amusement and the both of them descended the ramp. The stormtroopers followed, all of them carrying what gear they’d managed to salvage from Praxis. They still carried half-empty water cubes, including the communal soup pot. The carcass of a spider the size of a Stormtrooper helmet floated in the cube, its legs pressed against the sides.

They all looked a mess. Hux wore his undershirt, uniform pants, boots, tags, and nothing else. RX-3081 wore his breastplate with no underarmor and no pauldrons, the duraplast ruptured all along the chest from the force of the spider queen’s bite and the resulting fatigue cracks. TK-1959 wore his boots and his shin guards, his belt, his leg underarmor, undershirt, tags, and one gauntlet. Nobody had a helmet. Nobody’s armor was white, stained brown and pale by the dust and dirt that clung to them all. Gloves and gauntlets and assorted armor plates were missing. Gray strands of silk trailed off of everyone’s gear, clothes, and hair.

Meanwhile, the entire floor stood at parade rest, their armor gleaming and their weapons presented in a show of force. They all looked pristine and perfect even as they all gawked under their helms at the absolute disasters who had returned.

Officer approached between two battalions of perfect Stormtroopers. The black and blue and gray uniforms were expected but white? TK-1959 had never seen a white uniform before, not on an officer. The white uniform led the group of officers, flanked on either side by officers of leadership rank, a general and a commandant.

Hux called for them to stand at attention. They did so, though that order was made difficult with their lack of helmets. Without helmets they had to keep their expressions entirely schooled, something few Stormtroopers were practiced at.

Ren stepped back and leaned against the hydraulics of his own ship’s ramp. He appeared to relax and watch.

Hux checked all of his Stormtrooper’s forms, nudging each one into tighter stance, into standing taller, into looking forward, into wiping the smirk off their face, and then turned to face the approaching officers himself.

Hux took the same position as he stood awaiting what was surely going to be a thorough dressing-down for daring to come back in such a state. That didn’t explain the low vibrating rumble that he seemed to barely have under control.

General Brendol Hux scowled at them all. Commandant Stiles looked at them curiously as though willing to listen to what they had to say before demoting them all. But Grand Admiral Rae Sloane showed no expression as she stood between and before the two men. 

“You lost me a shuttle, boy,” General Hux snapped.

“You loaned me a shuttle with a cracked reactor,” Captain Hux said. “I was under the impression the shuttle was due for decommissioning due to a problem with its onboard water recycler. The reactor vent explosion blew us off course and out of hyperspace. If we hadn’t found the planet we’d all be dead.”

“There will be an inquiry later,” Stiles said. “Questions can be posed at that time, General. I’m sure the Captain will be willing to answer any relevant questions we might have.”

“You’d better,” General Hux warned. “Having to negotiate with the Ascendency. The Supreme Leader’s insistence on using these mercenaries!” He pointed to Ren who stood as though he wasn’t being insulted.

“General, you weren’t required to negotiate with anybody,” Sloane said. “I rather wish you were; I imagine the Ascendency would return you in a rather improved state.”

General Hux sneered in contempt.

The Grand Admiral walked up and down the line of troopers who all attempted to hold attention. All except Hux who seemed to vibrate as his eyes turned black with anticipation. She stopped before Captain Hux, sighed, smiled indulgently, and in a grand gesture held her arms out.

Hux pounced. His purr unleashed at full volume as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her in a hug while she held his shoulders and laughed.

“Put me down,” Sloane pleaded, laughing. “Put me down you mongrel!”

Hux lowered her until her feet touched the floor. Sloane slid both hands to his cheeks and leaned in, nuzzling him like an animal would. Or maybe like an Arkanan. Hux purred unabashedly as he rubbed his face against hers, forehead to cheek then back and the other side. His eyes closed and his expression might have been something like utter bliss.

“I’m so relieved you’re safe, you have no idea,” Sloane breathed, though there was an edge to her voice. That edge was all the warning Hux got before she grabbed him by the neck, pivoted, and threw him to the floor.

TK-1959 jumped. He felt his entire squad falling out of attention at the sight of their captain allowing himself to be overpowered.

Rae Sloane held Captain Hux to the deck of the hangar, one hand around his neck as he leaned back and bared it to her. It didn’t stop the purr that betrayed how utterly pleased he was with his predicament.

“You disappeared on the edge of Ascendency space without a registered pilot,” Sloane shouted. “I hear your father allowed you to take a shuttle scheduled for decommissioning, what am I supposed to think?! You know what that looks like! The ion trail leads into Ascendency space! I get to Csilla ready to plead for a joint operation to find you and then I hear the Supreme Leader insists on mercenaries. Not just any mercenaries, these idiots!” She pointed to Ren who still did not react to being insulted. “I have to spend weeks, **weeks!** knowing you’re down on some planet even the Chiss consider a dangerous hellhole, wasting time getting the Supreme Leader’s little pets the clearance they need to operate! I was ready to fly in my own frakking **self** to get you out of there!”

Hux’s purr changed, fading into something more like a long murring sound. He nuzzled her arm even as she held him down, his eyes imploring. She let him go and he sat up, slowly nuzzling her as he purred.

She petted him, though she stopped when she pulled her hand away to find it tangled with gray spider strands. He chuckled as she scowled and tried to wipe her hand on his undershirt.

Sloane climbed to her feet. Her white uniform was now streaked with grime and oil and dust and spider silk, traces of Praxis. She didn’t seem to notice or care as she held out her hand to help Captain Hux to his feet. He took it but got to his feet without it.

“Now tell me about your new project,” Sloane said.

Hux purred again. “I was gifted the most unfortunate group of slackers and rejects my father could find,” he said, though the tone of his voice was unabashed pride. “A pilot who can’t fly into battle, the lover of the man you watched me eat in the arena, a Stormtrooper who can’t fire an AR to save his life, another with faulty cybernetics, another old enough to be my father, a childhood bully I tried to eat, slackers and mediocrity all of them. And I have made them mine.”

Sloane ran her hand through his mane of unruly hair. “We’ll see if you still feel that way after you’ve had a shower,” she allowed. “I’m sure there are troopers with better training.”

“And I would have to break them of it,” Hux protested. “I’ve already broken these. We’d all be dead if I’d crashed with ‘better trained’ Stormtroopers.”

“Eaten by spiders,” RX-3081 supplied.

“Eaten by him,” SK-0331 accused, pointing at Hux.

“Dead from wandering the endless desert,” TT-1098 agreed.

“Bitten by snakes,” GR-8758 added.

“Consumed body and mind by a semi-sentient Force temple,” TK-1959 revealed.

Sloane gave TK-1959 a look that clearly said he’d gone too far for believability. She glanced back at Hux who didn’t back up her skepticism. At that she grew thoughtful.

“When is the inquiry?” Hux asked.

“Tomorrow,” Sloane said. “Right now I’m supposed to send you to be debriefed on the _Kraken_.” She did not look pleased about that development.

“All right.” Captain Hux turned to address his squad. “Showers, now!”

Troopers paused. It struck them all that they were uncomfortable with this order. Why this one though? They’d all done worse on this mission. “Permission to come with you, sir,” TT-1098 said.

“Denied,” Hux said. “Out.” He paused and seemed to reconsider. “Wait.”

Hope sparked then faded as Hux lifted the cube containing the communal soup from GR-8758’s shoulder. “I’ll need this. Now, out. All of you.”

“Yes sir.” Troopers turned and left in some semblance of a march.

“That is a gigantic spider,” Commandant Stiles remarked.

Hux looked down at the soup cube and its helm-sized spider dead and curled up within. “What, this? This is nothing. The large ones were the size of TIE cockpits. The smaller ones taste better.”

The last thing TK-1959 heard before leaving the hangar floor was Ren’s laughter.

*****

Armor was a custom thing.

Armor was always a custom thing. One couldn’t simply acquire fitted armor off of a rack. It had to be carefully constructed to exacting measurements. Stormtroopers weren’t clones, not anymore, and so each trooper’s armor had to be uniquely fitted to them.

TK-1959 stood in fresh underarmor with his arms held spread out to his sides, his legs shoulder-width apart. The armory’s master control droid used tape measures and lidar to match his measurements to those on file. Three weeks in the field had tightened his limbs, thinned his waist, and hardened his shoulders and his old measurements were no longer a match. Medical files were accessed and extrapolations made based off of previous physical exams and any future missions on record in order to determine the most efficient body measurements to use.

Binary chattering between droids went over TK-1959’s head as he allowed them to manipulate him. Droids worked behind him on machines that pressed and prepared and shaped sheets of readied duraplast into patterns quickly calculated from the master control droid’s calculations. An empty observation deck stretched above him; nobody in their right mind needed to watch a single trooper be fitted for replacement armor. A mirror stood just out of line of sight, the mirror where all cadets saw themselves for the first time as Stormtroopers. Faded propaganda posters on the wall gave any assembled troopers something to look at as they were fitted for the first time. Or, if they were like TK-1959, after shamefully losing their armor in the field.

These past few days had been strangely difficult ever since the mission on Praxis. There was nothing much to do until Hux got back from the _Kraken_ and then once he was back there was nothing much else to do but return to training. Simulation Room 23 felt at once like an old friend and like seeing a one night stand in the hallway. Individual Duties felt lonely as each trooper worked alone to enhance their own specialties. Mealtimes were both so much more satisfying and oddly bereft at the same time. It felt odd to roam the _Locutor_ in civilian clothing, Stormtroopers watching him out of the corners of their helms like he wasn’t one of them anymore.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Praxis had changed them all. But this time the change wasn’t the result of a Sith Temple twisting them into monsters. This time it was their own survival that had taken a small squad of ordinary Stormtroopers and turned them into something more.

He’d run into his old Sergeant one last time, his old cadre in AR training while his own squad vacated the range after goofing off with more familiar weapons. She hadn’t met his eyes. She’d refused to even acknowledge him, other than to usher her cadets past him as they whispered under their breaths.

He’d answered the few questions posed to him during the short inquiry, about the size of the spider queen, the hallucinatory nature of the terrain, and were they sure they couldn’t have stayed at the crash site where it was safe. Commandant Stiles had watched him with an almost contemplative look on his face while General Pryde handled the questions and General Brendol Hux refused to look at him. After only a few minutes he was kicked out and never asked to answer questions about the crash again. 

The smell of hot duraplast stung his nose, the armorer droids molding his new armor to fit his measurements. He breathed deep, the smell reminding him of when he left the creche to join his cadre. A new beginning, a test passed, a triumph in his life.

A new squad.

They were a small squad, the smallest squad he knew of. The standard small squad size was 20 Stormtroopers. When they began they’d had 20 Stormtroopers but after so many left or were removed…

They were a small squad. But they had what they needed. They had each other.

TK-1959 found himself pulled from his thoughts by the warm duraplast the droids wrapped around him, as they manipulated him into sliding into each new armor piece. Thigh cuisses, belt and cup and rear. Breastplate then arms and pauldrons. Boots with greaves and knee poleyns. Gauntlets with elbow plates.

There was just one difference as he watched the droids encase his body in his new armor.

“It’s black,” he remarked.

Shining black armor in a sleekly modified Stormtrooper’s design covered him from the neck down as the master controller droid held a black helm with strange iridescent black eyes. “Those were our instructions,” it said. “All Hounds of the First Order are to be outfitted in black armor.”

“‘Hounds of the First Order’?”

“Yes sir. You are no longer designated as a Stormtrooper in our system. You have been designated as a ‘Hound’ per the orders of Captain Armitage Hux and Commandant Geoffrey Stiles. Your entire squad is now so designated.”

TK-1959 felt light-headed. Was this some sort of joke? A reminder of how thoroughly they almost lost themselves on Praxis? Or… He laughed to himself as he remembered the insults whispered at him by his old cadre.

They’d called him a ‘pfassking dog’.

They’d called him a dog the very first day he left them.

They’d called him a dog as he left the shooting range as his old Sergeant refused to look at him and refused to shut them up.

He laughed so hard he felt the armorer droids and their extended mechanics pressing against his back and shoulders as they held him up, as though he might fall over if they let go.

“Sir?” asked the master controlled droid. It still held his helmet out like an offering.

TK-1959 giggled as he regained his feet and took the helm. It looked like a featureless Stormtrooper helm, smooth over the face in the sleek way that matched the newer helms outfitted to the newest cadres. The lack of color contrast gave the helm a blank, almost frightening appearance. Only the eyes shone with any color and that was due to an internal iridescence that did not help the inhuman appearance at all.

He slid it over his head. It sealed at the neck, its internal filtration system activating to provide him with breathable air circulated and purified from outside. The internal HUD flashed a tiny tutorial window in the lower right hand corner of his visual field and he glanced at it to activate it, to tell him what his new armor was capable of.

The droids adjusted and refined his armor, changing individual plates to better match the whole and to maintain flexibility while he learned what he could do with it. Semi-enclosed breathing with a filtration system. Standard and enhanced HUD options. Night vision. Augmented audio capable of both cancellation and enhancement. Smooth bore joints for enhanced stealth. A smartlink system compatible with his own personalized SE-44 pistol. Wait.

“A personalized weapon?” he asked aloud.

“Yes sir,” said the master control droid. It held the black holster and its shining black blaster pistol.

TK-1959 watched as the droid fastened the weapon to him with mechanical efficiency. Then it pulled the second weapon, a knife in a black thigh sheath, and fastened that to his other leg.

At that the droids were finished. The master control droid gestured to the mirror for TK-1959 to examine their work.

TK-1959 stepped forward and approached the mirror.

The shining black trooper that stared back at him was not a Stormtrooper. It moved with too much grace to be a Stormtrooper. It wasn’t armed like a Stormtrooper. It wasn’t shaped quite like a Stormtrooper anymore. It even had a name.

Mitaka pulled off his helm and looked at himself in the mirror. This was it. This was his future.

He couldn’t wait.


End file.
